


To Court a Monster: Pirates of the Caribbean Edition

by Rhiw



Series: Roux-verse [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, And Other Shenanigans, Bad Touch, Blood, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Decisions made under the influence of hormones, Eating Of Humans, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Hollywood History, Humans as pray, Kidnapping, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Human Jack Sparrow, Non-Human William Turner, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Old Fashioned Monster Courting, Piracy, Pseudo Creole Mythology, Rimming, Roux - Freeform, Roux-Ga-Roux, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, non-con, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Turner's future looked rather grim. Trapped at Port Royal, feeding off whatever Human riffraff he dared to without drawing the attention of the authorities, this was hardly the life the Submissive Roux envisioned for himself when he left England to find his Sire. Now thirty-two, Will is barely carving a life for himself as a (rather impoverished) blacksmith's apprentice. He knows he must find a way out of Port Royal and to Tortuga - a place where a rather large Roux community is rumored to exist. Only there does he have any hope of living a decent life - and finding a mate.</p><p>Than one hot, summer day, a pirate comes to Port Royal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A Cub's Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I help you boy?" A sharp voice asked and Will swallowed as he turned, jutting his chin out as he refused to be intimidated by what may be the foulest, meanest looking Human he'd ever encountered. 
> 
> "My name is William Turner," he announced, "I'm your new cabin boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would not leave me alone until I wrote it once someone suggested it.
> 
> I have no regrets.
> 
> Un-beated.

**1723 AD – London, England**

It was the first day of spring; the sun was bright in the afternoon sky, the wind from the ocean was refreshing and cool, and the port was alive with activity. It was also the first day that William Ferrier was an orphan. The ten year old Roux cub sniffed, bringing a meticulously white sleeve up to rub over his nose, uncaring of the snot that may be relocated there. If his father, Henry, was alive he would have skinned Will’s buttocks for being so careless in his Sunday best. But his father wasn’t here, having been buried that very morning. The cough that had haunted Henry Ferrier all his life had taken a turn for the worst during the harsh winter and it had been a miracle he’d hung on as long as he did.

Without his carrier, the young Roux was lost. There was a Roux community in London, abet a small one, and few of them had the coin or forgiveness to take in Turner. Will’s sire – William ‘Billy’ Turner – had made few friends here, and neither had Henry, his father unwilling to hear a foul word or even inference about his absent mate. They still would have taken him eventually, orphaned Roux were an almost unheard of thing, but Will hadn’t wanted to go with any of them.

It felt wrong that his first act of defiance against his carrier would be after Henry was dead, as he’d wanted Will to stay with one of the local families, but Will was resolute. He’d go to Tortuga to find his sire, that’s what he wanted, and the Roux family nearest to them – the Blalock’s – had agreed to send him off hesitantly but with little real fight.

Franklyn Blalock (who’d been home from one of his rare visits from the sea) was an captain in the Royal Navy and had not only secured Will passage as a cabin boy on a ship heading to the Caribbean, but written him a sterling letter of reference and introduction. Once he reached the Caribbean, Will would be on his own in trying to reach Tortuga, but he’d be closer than he was in England. Andrew Blalock – who’d taken his mate’s last name and posed as his brother as he raised their children above his tailor shop – had been far more reluctant to let him go, but Will was not someone who could be dissuaded, even at his tender age, and they’d rather he go with some sort of safety net than try and sneak off on his own.

And so his bag was packed with provisions (salted human flesh, hard tack, and second set of clothes made hastily but with quality, and a brand new pair of butter soft leather boots) and Will had set off from their home with a stomach so full it was nearly bursting. He was as ready as he could ever be.

That didn’t mean that Will wasn’t terrified of the idea of venturing off on his own, though. He’d have to report to _The Golden Hare_ soon, but for now the small cub was hidden behind a stack of barrels next to a rather impressive three-mast ship, trying his best to reclaim his courage. Despite his fears, Will never questioned his intentions or his quest; his memories of his sire were few but precious, and he wanted nothing more than to find the Roux and rest in his powerful arms.

Still, he was very young and very frightened, and he couldn’t quite find the ship he was supposed to report to and was too afraid to ask, and a good cry never hurt anything.

He was well into it – face splotchy and cheeks damp with tears – when he was found. The young man that approached him was barely out of his teenage years, face young and sporting the bare beginnings of a beard, and he bore all the earmarks of a seasoned sailor. He was also a Roux, a Dominant – the male of their species – and Will stiffened, eyes wide and terrified at the sight of him.

He wore an ill-fitting enlisted British naval uniform, one that clashed with the short set of dreads that peaked out from underneath his tri-corn. While he was not yet an adult (Roux didn’t enter puberty until thirty), Will had it ingrained in him since he was born to be weary of foreign Dominants. As a Submissive, Will was at danger from any Dominant, though it was far less so since he’d yet to hit puberty. Neither had the Dominant and that was the only reason why he did not try and flee past the narrow frame when he appeared at the mouth of his hiding place.

The Dominant’s face was drawn, brown eyes bright with concern, and he held both his hands up in supplication as he stepped further into the small space. “Ya lost, luv?”

His accent was strange; quite British but with a tinge too it Will had never heard before. The younger Roux nodded his head, bringing his hands up to scrub at his face. “I’m supposed to report to _The Golden Hare_ at four, but I can’t find it.”

Will was impressed that he kept the wobble out of his voice, even if it showed in the tremble of his lips. If possible, the Dominant’s face softened even further. “Well, the good news ‘s it’s not yet noon, so you’ve got some time. Why don’t I help ya find it?”

A hand was held out to him and Will eyed it like it was a poisoned snake, weary but far more frightened at the idea of missing his ship to refuse. His skin look frighteningly pale against the dark tan of the Dominant’s skin, and his palm was rough and calloused compared to the butter-smooth of his own.

“Come on, then. I know a good place we can get a view of the whole harbor.” The Dominant said cheerfully, gently using his grip to pull the younger cub closer. When Will was within reach, he startled as a handkerchief was sudden pressed against his face, the ragged looking yet clean smelling fabric rubbing at his cheeks and nose. “Let’s have us a blow, then.”

Will felt foolish – and more than a bit caught off guard – but he’d didn’t wish to appear rude (rudeness was the ultimate taboo in Roux culture, the species ruled by an ironclad set of rules and regulations to keep their hyper-aggressive race from killing each other off) and he after a moment of hesitation he blew.

“That’s me lad.” The older Roux said cheerfully, shoving the dirty rag seemingly uncaringly into his pocket. “Can’t have ya looking a mess when ya meet your captain; weakness is a cardinal sin amongst sailors, you know.”

Will didn’t, but he was willing to believe it if the Dominant had said it was true. He was lead from his hiding place and into the bright morning sun, blinking harshly against the light of it. The Dominant lead him easily through the crowd, swirling and shifting through it with total ease, before leading him through a few alleyways and towards a pair of raggedy wooden stairs.

“Watch your step,” the Dominant warned, grip tightening as he helped the younger cub up the broken things. It was attached to the side of tavern, the building loud and raucous with life and sailors on shore leave seeking a good time, and the steps lead up to the roof. It did provide a rather stunning view of the entire harbor and though Will could see nothing (just rows and rows of ships that looked vaguely the same), the other Roux apparently could. He let out a crow of delight, pointing to a smaller ship moored at the far end of the harbor. “There she is, lad. That’s where you’ll need to go.”

Will did his best to memorize the ship’s appearance and location, unsure how he’d ever find it in the bustle of the harbor. The Dominant released his hand, telling him to wait a moment before he jogged down the stairs. Will watched him go in bemusement, looking around the abandoned roof before sitting, his legs hanging over the side, watching as the Humans below scurried about.

He returned after a handful of moments, two loaves of bread and a jar with two cups balanced awkwardly in his hands. Will moved to stand and help, but the older Roux just shook his head, joining him on the roof edge. Will took the warm bread he was offered, not hesitating to bite into the soft, warm thing even though he was still full from this morning. He was under no illusions of what life at sea was going to be like, Mr. Blalock had seen to that. Undoubtedly Franklyn had hoped that his tales would dissuade Will from leaving but again, Will was resolute in his decision.

He would have run away and become a stowaway if he had to; something that was often met with a quick toss overboard had he been found.

A cup was handed to him and Will took a deep swig of it at once, mouth dry from the bread, only to bring it all up in a series of hacking coughs. The other Roux laughed merrily at the sight of it, eyes twinkling.

“Ya best get used to the taste of rum, lad. It’ll be most of what you’ll be having soon enough.” He advised, drinking from his own cup with little trouble. “Pardon my bluntness, but what’s a little cub like you doing so far out alone?”

The bread in his mouth suddenly tasted like ash and Will could feel the way he drooped, curving in on himself. “I wanna find my da,” Will admitted after forcing his mouthful down. “My carrier died and my da’s in the Caribbean.”

“But there has to be a family here that would take you,” the Dominant pressed with a frown, “a cute little Submissive like yerself should find no problems finding a family ta take you in.”

“I want my da.” Will said stubbornly, tired of having this conversation _yet again,_ not when it had been going on for nearly the entirety of the night before with the Blalocks. “And no one is gonna stop me.”

The Dominant lifted both hands up in surrender, a small grin on his face. “Stubborn little brat, aren’t ya? Well, I ain’t ever been one to tell others what they can’t do. Free will, luv, it’s the only thing in life that’s true.”

Will didn’t know much about that, so he just shrugged and went back to devouring his bread. After they’d eaten and the rum was gone – most of it, admittedly, to the Dominant sitting beside him – both seemed content to just sit and watch ships pull in out of the harbor. After a moment the Dominant began to speak, telling him stories of his own adventures on the sea, and they sounded quite vivacious indeed, and Will began to wonder if his companion was a privateer to have done some of the things he had. Surely no naval sailor would partake in such adventures.

But the stories were interesting, and the deep voice of the older Roux cub was oddly soothing with its strange accent, and he was more than content to listen. Will was not sure when he fell asleep; at one moment he’d been listening to some outrageous tale and the next he was waking to the feeling of movement. Will blinked wearily, still so exhausted despite his nap, and stared up at the grinning face of the Dominant that was seemingly carrying him. The expression – a sort of small grin/smirk – seemed to be the default for the other Roux, and Will could admit that it suited him well. He made a soft sound of confusion, a hand coming up to curl around the buttons of the Dominant’s jacket, and their walk paused.

Brown eyes were twinkling again, smirk growing even wider, as the older cub glanced down at him. “Awake finally, princess?” He teased, the jab good natured as he gently set Will down onto his feet. “I was startin’ ta think you were gonna sleep all day.”

They were in the harbor, feet from Will’s ship no less, and the sun was significantly lower than it had been before he’d fallen asleep. “What time is it?”

“Nearing four, I’d wager.” The Dominant said, his hand a shoring support on Will’s back as he brought a hand up to rub at his tired eyes, leaning uncaringly into the solid warmth of the older Roux’s chest. “‘Bout time for ya ta begin your exciting life as a sailor.”

Will made a soft humming sound of agreement, eyes locked on the intimidating sight of _The Golden Hare._ She was far smaller than most of the ships in the harbor, but the merchant ship still looked giant to his eyes.

“Are ya prepared?” The Dominant suddenly asked, voice far more serious than Will had heard it so far “Do ya have yer own previsions?”

Will nodded, gesturing to the large bag that was resting over the Dominant’s shoulder. “If I’m careful I’ll have enough.”

The Dominant gave a low whistle, the smile returning. “Yer a brave little tyke, aren’t ya?” Will simply shrugged, not feeling so very brave at the moment, and accepted his bag as it was given. “What’s yer name, luv?”

“Will. Will Ferrier.” The young Submissive answered, not looking up from where he was securing his bag to his chest, and wondered if he shouldn’t start using Turner if he was going to be finding his sire. He glanced up to find the older cub watching him thoughtfully. A moment later and there was a weight upon his head, the beaten fabric tri-corn resting ill-fittingly on his brow. “It’s too big,” he said, than wincing at how rude he sounded, but the Dominant only chuckled.

“You’ll grow into soon enough I suspect. It’ll help keep the sun from ya, it can be brutal out there on the water.” A hand was suddenly against his face, the touch gentle as the large palm dwarfed his cheek. “Good luck Will Ferrier, may ya find nothing but fair winds – and yer da.”

“Thank you,” Will said, the words heartfelt and sure. The small kindness he’d found in the older cub was a welcome relief in the strain from losing his father, “for being so kind to me. And good luck with your naval career,” he added almost as an afterthought.

The Dominant seemed to find something hilarious about that, throwing his head back in a delighted laugh, and Will tried not to be affronted that his well-wishes were met with such a reaction. “Well enough, Will. Off ya go, best report in so yer not late.”

Will nodded, sparing the older Roux one last glance before heading up the gang plank. It was only once he was on the deck that Will realized he’d never asked the other Roux his name, but when he turned back the Dominant was nowhere to be seen.

"Can I help you boy?" A sharp voice asked and Will swallowed as he turned, jutting his chin out as he refused to be intimidated by what may be the foulest, meanest looking Human he'd ever encountered. 

"My name is William Turner," he announced, "I'm your new cabin boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh but Will, we know who that mysteriously helpful Dominant is, don't we?
> 
> Also, if any of you are naval history buffs and know what port an English ship bound for the Caribbean would have left from, drop me a line. Historical accuracy is going to be literally impossible, but I'm going to strive nonetheless damn't.


	2. Preheat: A Most Unconventional Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was hidden amongst the filth and garbage that haunted every city no matter what its size, but there was little wind from the sea today and Jack’s sensitive nose could still catch it. It was sweet and heady, a siren’s call that had his feet changing their path before he’d even realized it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! As always, I'm humbled by your guys' support.
> 
> Un-betaed.

**1755 AD - Port Royal, Jamaica**

It was stifling out.

Such a thing was hardly unusual in the Caribbean, especially with the layers and full sleeves that were required to be considered appropriately dressed in English society, but Will was positively _cooking_. The young Roux took a moment to pause under the welcome shadow of a grouping of trees, wiping at his forehead with his handkerchief, as he debated unbuttoning his vest. Port Royal was an interesting port; colonized first by the Spanish than English hands, the island had a very unique feel to it.

It was truly a beautiful place; a lush and green island, surrounded by crystal clear blue ocean on all sides, and gorgeous sandy beaches, it was nothing like England. In fact, the island was everything that he had ever dreamed the Caribbean would be like as a cub, suckling at his carrier’s breast and listening to the adventures his sire was having. But the glory of the place had long since faded for Will.

While he’d been a youth, Port Royal hadn’t felt nearly as caging. Of course it was strange being the only non-Human on the island but Roux were solitary creatures by nature, rarely existing out of tightly formed family units unless the food supply dictated it, and even then major cities rarely held more than half a dozen families. It wasn’t that life was horrible here. The nature of the port meant that there were always incoming meat that Will could charm (sailors usually – enlisted and non-military were almost always more willing to risk a buggery charge for a good time) and prey on. And while Will was poor, as a blacksmith apprentice a mere handful of years from earning his journeyman status, Will was actually considered in the upper echelon of the lower class.

But after his Change, the Submissive’s priorities shifted immensely.

When his first heat was over all Will could think about was saving up enough money to get off Port Royal. Before he’d ever felt the stirring of lust in his lions, felt the tender want in his womb, Will was – if not happy – content. But now all he cared about was getting to Tortuga and the Roux community that was settled there, the dream of finding his sire replaced now with the idea of a mate.

Will _ached_ for a child.

But saving money was difficult when all of his earnings when to his drunkard of a master, Earnest Brown. Soon, just another year or so, Will would be given a percentage of his earnings from Earnest and be sent off to establish his own forge. That was the nature of blacksmithing and inspiration for the word ‘journeyman,’ once one finished with his instruction, Will would be sent off so as to not poach his master’s business.

He’d just have to be patient.

But being patient was _so hard._

Will sighed as he began his decent down the hill and back towards his blacksmith shop. He’d just finished delivering a commissioned piece – a sword, one of Will’s best, because nothing breeds efficiency and skill in one’s trade like constant, unrelievable boredom – to Governor Swan and with it, freed the rest of his week up from any real work.

Oh, there were a few things he still needed to get done and there was always a demand for nails to be made, but there was nothing that would require the type of planning and attention that the sword had. Will was looking forward to a long, uninterrupted –

“William!”

The Roux paused, a small – but genuine – smile on his face at the sight of James Norrington’s approach on horseback. The tall, dowdy Human had been one of men who’d pulled him out of the water after _The Golden Hare_ had been attacked. Will had worked hard to endear himself to the Human ever since, becoming a sort of little brother figure to sailor, not only out of gratitude but because even at his tender age of their first meeting Will realized that James Norrington was going places.

And he remembered his carrier’s teachings well; the only thing better than a dead Human was a living one with power that could be used.

“James,” Will greeted, smirking as the Human dismounted his horse, the actions rigid and therefore slightly off due to the stiff, starchy fabric of his new uniform. “Congratulations again on your promotion, you’ve just missed the Governor and Miss. Swan. I’ve just dropped off your promotion gift from the Crown.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful, Will.” James said as he folded the reigns back and Will felt a spark of smugness that _someone_ recognized his work as his own, but the Human’s smile faded slightly as he took in the Roux’s flushed skin. “William, are you quite alright?”

In truth, Will was not. He was on the cusp of a heat; in a week or so Will would be a writhing, whining, desperate mess. The week before a heat was always filled with near constant fevers and night sweats, cramping and bloody spotting, and hormonal flares that left Will flashing between furious anger, insatiable hunger and lust, and a deep, biding depression that came with the knowledge that he was alone.

“I’m fine,” Will assured, “just still heated from the forge. Perhaps I’ll take a dip after I’ve finished my duties in the shop. I can listen to the sounds of your promotion ceremony.”

James’ smile was tight, guilty almost. “I would extend an invitation, but–”

“It wouldn’t be proper.” Will interrupted, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. Honestly he hardly cared if the nobility of this place looked down upon him, particularly upon his relationships with James and Elizabeth Swan. But he understood the position their friendship put them in. “James, you worry too much. I’m not offended, honest.” He offered his hand, waiting until James took it to shake it enthusiastically. “Congratulations, my friend. Truly, you’re quite deserving of it.”

They spoke together, James seemingly content to walk aside his horse as they headed towards the town proper and Will’s shop. He didn’t know if it was normal to have grown fond of Humans, but Will certainly had of these two, much to Governor Swan’s disapproving annoyance.

He owed the two a great debt – perhaps the only true debt a Roux could ever owe a Human – a life debt. It had been Elizabeth who had spotted him floating in the open water and James who had pulled him free.

Both had coddled him during the trip; Elizabeth had tended to his wounds and made sure he was fed and warm, but it had been James that had tended to his mental injuries, such as they were. Even as a Roux, Will had only been a cub, and the harsh violence and sudden cruelty of the deaths of those he traveled with had been hard to accept. James had talked him through the sinking, having experience two himself, and (much to Elizabeth’s disapproval) put him to work almost immediately afterwards, the menial jobs of a cabin boy providing a much needed distraction

And when they’d come to Port Royal, Elizabeth had refused to give up their friendship. She looked for Will wherever she was, always taking the time to speak with him, and for a while that friendship had evolved into something more for Elizabeth, well. Everyone was British enough to look the other way and not acknowledge it, Will included, and Will had worked hard not to foster any affection between them and it had eventually faded into something gentler, more sibling-like. It had been James who had first recognized his skill with his hands and had assured he’d gotten an apprenticeship, and James had stopped into the smithy often when Will was younger to check in on him. And so he’d found himself growing both fond and protective of the two, and neither one ever entered his mind as possible food.

They parted there, at the smithy, and as affectionate as he was of the Human Will was glad for it. He was hot and sticky, a light film of slick and blood and a layer of sweat form his fever made him immensely uncomfortable and his mood was erring on irritable and crabby. The last thing Will wanted to do was snap at James on his special day, especially as he knew that James had no family to speak of too share with this experience, but all the same he was hardly in the mood to entertain.

No, a swim in the ocean would do him well and Will hardly waited in changing into something more casual after dropping the payment off with his slumbering master and locking the front door. He doubted they’d get much business today anyway, Saturday’s were always rather slow, and the ocean was calling to him.

* * *

Port Royal looked like most ports owned by the crown, Jack mused as he made his way down the dock, eyes categorizing everything in one quick, methodical sweep. A meal was in order, the Dominant thought, and a cup of water or tankard of ale wouldn’t go astray. He paused, eyeing a rather impressive ship docked to his left.

She was modern; all clean lines and built clearly for speed, and Jack couldn’t quite contain the hungry look on his face or the way he licked his lips wantonly. It seemed no matter how old he got, his lust for ships would never fade. She’d be his ride out of here, the Roux reasoned, and he was hardly daunted by the two Human guards or the sounds of revelry and ceremony happing from cliff top, where the English fort was clearly decorated for whatever event was taking place.

Food could wait, he decided, he wanted to get a closer look at his soon-to-be ship. But he’d barely taken a step in its direction before a scent caught his attention. It was hidden amongst the filth and garbage that haunted every city no matter what its size, but there was little wind from the sea today and Jack’s sensitive nose could still catch it. It was sweet and heady, a siren’s call that had his feet changing their path before he’d even realized it. It led him off the docks and onto the sandy beach, away from the bustle of the port and towards the unforgiving cliff side. He followed a harsh bend, the beach growing thinner and narrower, and he had step around a large vaulted rock that interrupted the beach’s line and hid a deserted stretch of beach behind it from sight completely.

A figure was stretched out there, seemingly uncaring that waves lapped at his legs and thighs, arms crossed behind his head as he dozed. All at once Jack’s recognized the scent for what it was – preheat, a scent he’d only ever caught a handful of times – and he found himself being pulled ever closer to the napping Submissive.

He was a glorious sight. He was clad only in his small-clothes, a pair of powder blue breeches that the water had long since made a second skin, and very little was hidden from Jack’s greedy eyes. He was handsome, with a strong jaw with the bare starts of a beard and mustache, a mass of brown hair pooled about his head that somehow managed to still look silken despite its tangled state. Long, thick lashes fanned over the apple of his cheeks, and his nose was straight and patrician as it lead down to a pair of narrow yet quite alluring lips.

His skin was golden, even where it should have been protected from the sun by his clothing, and the only sliver of white that could be seen just above his breeches, making Jack’s mind stutter and his tongue grow thick and heavy in his mouth with thought of the pale flesh hidden from sight.

The breeches could have been painted on in their wet state, outlining wide hips and the not-so-subtle bulge of a half-hard cock snaking across the Submissive’s thigh. There was the barest trickle of blood down one slender leg and Jack inhaled deeply at the sight of it, feeling his cock pulse at the scent and the knowledge that the Roux before him was about to enter his fertile time.

The Submissive twitched, face wrinkling as nostrils flared, undoubting taking in Jack’s own arousal, and as he watched those long lashes fluttered opened. A pair of chocolate colored eyes blinked blearily up at him, hazy with sleep and the heat before focusing rapidly on the Dominant hovering over him. And Jack was hovering; at some point in his musing he’d come within inches of the Submissive, down on one knee next to him, though he was hardly aware of the movement himself.

A flush bloomed across naked skin, spreading up his bare chest and coloring his cheeks, visible even against the deep tan, and Jack watched its progress with fascination. His actions seemed beyond his control as his hand reached out, tracing the curve of his cheek, the tangle of lust in his stomach twisting tighter as the Submissive gasped at the contact, his thumb pressing heavily upon his lower lip as if to capture the movement.

Those brown eyes darkened, the very tip of a tongue darting out to taste before his thumb was sucked into the tender wetness of a warm mouth. Jack let out a snarl, ripping his thumb away as he ducked down, successful this time in catching the mewing gasps as he smothered pillowy lips with his own.

Hands suddenly tangled in his dreads, fingers digging underneath his bandanna as his hat fell forgotten by their sides. He ran his hands over the expanse of the Submissive's skin, catching the other Roux with a supportive hand to the small of his back when he arched into the touch, whining as Jack worried a nipple hard.

It was backwards, the complete opposite of how one was supposed to woo a Submissive, but Jack had never been much for rules and he could hardly be blamed. It would have taken a greater Roux than himself to resist the seductive sight and scent before him. Tongues tangled hungrily, and Jack could _taste_ the coming heat there, could feel the fever in the Submissive’s skin, and he tugged the slender body upright, falling ungracefully onto his ass as the brunet eagerly climbed into his lap, long legs slotting into place on either side of his own.

He broke the kiss with great reluctance, only going so far that they could pant into each other’s mouth, and for a moment his conscious reared itself in the very annoying voice of his carrier, telling him that this was hardly correct, that he was taking advantage of a desperate Submissive – but then the Roux’s hips slanted against his just so, pressing their very hard lengths together and Jack pushed the thought away in favor of the smooth length of neck before him.

The Submissive whimpered, hands pressing harshly against his scalp as he nipped and bathed his neck, mind spinning with the heightened scents between them. This was hardly the first Submissive he’d been intimate with, but it was the first one he'd been near so close to his heat and Jack felt drunk with, robbed of all thoughts that didn’t involve sheathing himself inside the burning hot body in his arms.

He yanked at the breeches, ignoring the tearing give of the waist tie as he did so, and the Submissive cried out as his fingers dug beneath and down, gripping at the meaty flesh of an ass cheek. He used his grip to guide their frantic grinding, unreasonably feeling his orgasm rapidly approaching with each harsh hump, and the Submissive was writhing atop him, hands digging into his shoulders as he let Jack guide them. This was too good, too perfect. Whatever gods Jack had gained the favor of, he’d was insatiably grateful. Grateful he’d been marooned and had his ship stolen, grateful the tiny boat he’d taken had run aground a reef and forced him to stop at Port Royal, grateful that –

A harsh scream broke the moment, stilling their movements as both Roux turned and watched as a figure impacted the water, sending a monstrous splash reaching upwards.

“Elizabeth!” The Submissive gasped and he was gone from Jack’s grip and sprinting towards the water within moments. He stopped, swirling around with a lip caught between his bottom lip. “The smithy – there’s only one in town – I’ll meet you there, my bedroom is at the top of the stairs. Go, quickly, before the soldiers come.”

And then the Submissive was wading desperately against the waves, breaching the shallow quickly and swimming hard towards the depths. The Dominant watched him for a moment longer, dumb founded at the rapid change in events, before forcing himself up on unsteady legs, catching his hat with one hand.

The Submissive was right; best to get out of here before soldiers come, there was little mistaking the type of group Jack ran with. He cast one more longing look at the brunet Roux before turning swiftly, rearranging his demanding hard on as he walked quickly back towards the dock.

God willing, there’d be time to handle that later.

* * *

Will sighed as he made his way towards his shop, ignoring the tittering conversation and looks his half-dressed outfit gave him. He was only in his breeches and shirt, practically naked with his pants and belt slung over one shoulder, but he hardly cared.

Elizabeth was safe after nearly having died for _fashion_ , silly girl, and both James and Weathersby Swan had been beyond themselves with gratitude. It was truly a miracle that she’d missed the jagged rocks that marred that bottom of the cliff face and the poor girl had clearly been frightened and off-set by the fall.

While the whole thing was unfortunate, Will was quite glad of it. Because only Elizabeth’s ungainly fall had kept him from making a fool out of himself. Honestly! What would his fathers say if they knew he’d been about to give his virginity away on a beach in Port Royal to an unknown Dominant? On a public beach no less, half a mile from the dock! If anyone had seen…charges of buggery would be given if it wasn’t blackmail their witness would have been after.

And why had he told the Dominant where he lived?

Will shook his head, grumbling under his breath at his foolishness as he found the smithy door unlocked and stepped inside. Earnest was just where he’d left him, unconscious and drooling in his chair, and Will rolled his eyes at the sight before he made his way upstairs.

He was covered in salt and sand, and a bath – or at the very least a change of clothes – was in order. And a brush, his hair was positively a mess. He paused at his open door, feeling helpless and aroused in equal measure at the sight of the Dominant standing at his window, outlined by the bright light of afternoon. He swallowed, forcing his courage up as he stepped inside and quietly shut the door.

The other Roux turned at the door, eyeing Will with a look that made him blush. “Save the girl, then?”

“Yes,” Will said, refusing to be embarrassed about his attachment to his Humans. “I owe a fairly deep debt to both her and the man she is to marry, besides which I consider them my friends.”

Surprisingly he received no mocking for that statement and Will did his best to ignore the weight of eyes on his back as he changed his shirt. He dare not switch out his breeches, nose wrinkling as he pulled a pair of clean pants atop the dirty things.

He turned, words for something he knew not what on his lips, and jumped in surprise, his hips hitting his dresser roughly when he found the Dominant a scant few inches behind him. Will hadn’t even heard him move!

“I’d have you remember your distance, sir.” Will snapped as he wiggled away, heart beating like a frightened rabbit’s.

“Didn’t seem to mind before.”

“Yes, well, that was – I clearly took leave of my senses and…” The rest of his defense drifted off as he took in the Dominant clearly for the first time. “…it’s you.”

The older Roux grinned – and damn it all if it wasn’t that very same smirk that Will had seen all those years ago in London – the skin around his eyes wrinkling. “I’m afraid you’ve got me at a disadvantage, luv.”

“You once helped a frighten cub find his ship, years ago, in London.” Will said softly, his ire gentled by years old gratitude. “You look nearly exactly the same.”

He’d filled out with time, years of hard living reflected in the muscle of his shoulders, in the meat of his thick forearms and broad chest. He was very attractive, Will noted uncomfortably, and he could still taste the Dominant on his tongue despite the sea salt. He could see the very moment the older Roux remembered him, his expression softening into something more gentle, kinder.

“Little William Ferrier.”

Had he given his carrier’s name back then? He supposed he must have. “Not so little now.”

And Will could kick himself for how low and quiet those words sounded, at how they vaulted the charged atmosphere between them into one of sexuality once more. The Dominant’s expression darkened and Will shivered as eyes dragged unashamedly down his form.

“No. Not so little now.”

“I never did catch your name,” Will managed weakly, moving towards the window in an attempt to get space between them once more, to guide their conversation back into safer waters.

“Captain Jack Sparrow,” the Dominant introduced, swiping his hat off as he bent into a low bow, eyes hungry as they watched him, “at your service.”

How he managed to make everything sound of sexual –

Will forced himself to breathe, turning his back on the handsome Dominant and his expressive eyes as he took in the poor view of his window. “I take it your naval career didn’t go as planned.”

There was a cheerful laugh from behind him. “Never was in the navy, luv. ‘was a spy, scouting out a nice fat convoy fer me men to hit.”

“So you’re a pirate then,” Will said distastefully, arms wrapping tightly around himself as he fought off the memories of screams and blood and fire, so much fire, “I wonder, was it you who sank the ship I was on? I nearly died then, you know.”

There was a sudden warmth against his back and Will’s eyes closed, nails digging into his own flesh as hot breath bloomed across the back of his neck. “Wasn’t me or any of mine, luv. Ya have ta know I’d never target one of my own, much less a cub.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort, pirate.”

Hands were suddenly at his hips, the breath closer as a nose nudged at his nape. “Yer close, days I’d say.”

Will’s eyes snapped open, swirling around as he pushed the Dominant away, one of the many swords he kept scattered about the smithy in his hand and pressed lightly but unforgivingly against Jack’s throat.

“I said, remember your distance _sir.”_

Jack’s hands were up, a mocking parody of their first introduction, but instead of concerned his eyes only showed great amusement and want. “Shall I court ya than, little Will? Give you my treasures, spoil you rotten until ya can think of nothing but be’n in my arms? You’d look stunning in silks and gems.”

“I wouldn’t want those things,” Will said stubbornly, as he could hardly imagine allowing a pirate to woo him, no matter how wonderful he smelled, how perfect it had felt in his strong arms, surrounded by his scent.

“That’s a first,” Jack mused, “what would ya want then?”

“A safe home,” Will said confidently, sure that a pirate could provide nothing of the sort, “a place I could raise my cubs protected and happy.”

“I own an island.” Jack announced casually, “my family does anyway. I’ve got me own land, a plantation. Beautiful place, big, with a kitchen stocked with spices you could only dream of.”

“It’d have to be a place I could hunt with ease, without fear of the crown. _Any_ crown.”

“Pirate, luv. There’s no government there but what we’ve put down.” Jack said easily, taking a step forward into Will’s space, seemingly uncaring of the blade at his throat. “With a large port filled to the brim with the type of folk no one notices when they go miss’n.”

“A reliable mate, then,” Will snapped, annoyed with the ease with which the Dominant had procured his answers, “one that I could trust to support and protect me, to be there for me.”

“No one would ever touch ya.” Jack’s voice was cold, devoid of any of the cheer that was in it before, eyes fierce, “no one would ever dare touch what was mine.” He took another step forward, than another, until Will was pressing back against the windowsill, practically leaning out of it to regain distance. “I’d keep ya warm and well-fed, so thick with my cubs that you’d forget what it’d be like to be empty. You’d want for naught.”

“You say that,” Will managed with a firm voice, “but how can I trust a pirate? How can I believe you won’t leave once you’ve taken what you want?”

He gasped as he was abruptly pulled forward, body seemingly in revolt as it leaned into the strong chest, ignoring his mental cries to move away. “Aye, I’m a pirate luv, and normally you’d be right. But I’m also a Dominant and I don’t give up what is _mine.”_

The sword clattered from his grasp as Will’s arms snaked around Jack’s neck, moaning into the demanding kiss. Hands rucked up his shirt, spreading across his back and chest as if taken with the need to feel all of him at once. This was wrong, Will knew it was wrong, but three years of hellish, lonely heats – did he really wish to experience another?

He was lifted easily, placed upon his bed with a gentleness that seemed so counter to a pirate’s nature that Will barely gave a protest as his shirt was torn from him, a hot mouth locking onto the peak of his nipple and sucking roughly. He arched into the touch, hands scrambling uselessly at the rough linen below him.

“Jack!” He cried, legs squeezing shut in either an attempt to hide his arousal or to comfort his throbbing member, even Will was unsure which. Perhaps both.

There was a pleased hum against his skin as Jack pulled off with a pop. “Thinking I’m gonna love that sound of my name like that.”

Eager hands divested him of his breeches, the Submissive blushing at the mixed slick and blood that coated his thighs liberally. Jack hardly seemed offended though, licking his lips before calloused hands yanked him harshly up onto his back, a hungry tongue tracing the paths back up to its source.

“Anyone ever touch you like this?” The Dominant asked, eyes locked on Will’s spasming hole with such a hunger that Will felt lost with it, his cock jumping against his stomach.

“A-A few,” Will panted, squirming with equal parts embarrassment and arousal as thumbs spread the meat of his cheeks apart, “when I needed release. But never another Roux – never so close – _ah!”_

A single finger was suddenly pressing in, pressing in until the whole thing was sheathed and Will cried out so loudly he feared he may wake his master, biting down on his hand to silence himself. “Look at you,” Jack growled out, sounding completely taken, “look at what ya’ve got ta offer.”

His cock was suddenly encased in perfect, wet heat. This was clearly not the first time Jack had done this and Will tried not to feel jealous at that, whimpering and moaning as he was taken to the root, as one finger became two and then three. He whined as he tried to both ride the fingers spearing him so perfectly and yet keep the whole of his cock in Jack’s mouth, senseless with pleasure and the Dominant’s scent, and it took hardly any time before he was crying out in release, hands tangled painfully in Jack’s hair as his legs locked fiercely around the Dominant’s head.  

He collapsed backwards at the end of it, entire body lax and loose, and – impossibly – felt the stirrings of further arousal when Jack’s cock was suddenly free, the pirate’s eyes locked on Will’s spent form as he worked his cock quickly. He came with a grunt, the Dominant’s come stripping his belly and half-hard cock, his fist curling tightly over an impressively large knot, and the sight of it inflamed Will.

He lurched forward, relishing the surprised sound Jack made as he toppled him backwards, mouth latching hungrily onto the blood filled expanse. The strangled sound Jack made as he mouthed at the swollen thing was worth whatever discomfort his neck felt from the angle, and he bathed the knot with long swipes of his tongue and open mouth sucks. Jack’s hips jerked upwards, his second orgasm torn easily from him at the actions and Will hummed happily as he licked at the ruddy head, sucking semen from the tip like a hungry cub at a tit.

Large hands encircled his neck and it was only when he felt no flare of alarm or fear that Will released how much trouble he was really in. Still he kept his mouth where it was, hands fluttering around the knot as he milked more and more come from it, until Jack was cursing and shaking, pulling him roughly off and into a bruising kiss.

He broke it with a sigh, leaning the whole of his weight on the Dominant’s body as he rested against him, head tucked into the hollow of Jack’s neck. “Please don’t be lying, _please.”_

Will couldn’t take it – not now that everything he wanted was being dangled in front of his face. True, he’d never imagined his mate as an outlaw, but it seemed almost like fate that he and Jack would meet again after all these years. What were the chances that first Dominant he’d meet in adulthood would be the very same he’d meet as a cub in London? Half a world away?

“Never, luv.” Jack said fiercely, his arms wrapping so tightly around him that it stole Will’s breath. “Not ta you, not about this.”

He was being kissed again and Will moaned as his body began to respond, his cock filling out hotly against Jack’s still-clothed form. He could feel Jack’s answering arousal against his own length, the silken-hardness more enticing than it had a right to be. He moaned, the sound loud and needy, legs tightening around Jack’s thighs as he humped mindlessly against him, hands gripping the back of his coat tightly.

A knock at his door stilled his desperate actions and both Roux froze.

“Mr. Turner?”

“Mr. Turner?” Jack echoed, going very still, but Will hardly noticed in his panic.

“Uh – coming! One moment!” He scrambled off the bed, awkwardly pulling his dirty breeches and pants on, ignoring how it made Jack’s spend smear. “One moment! I’m coming!”

A hand stilled his desperate motions, keeping him from pulling his shirt on. “Turner?”

“My sire’s name.” Will explained quickly as he yanked his hand away, pulling his hair up in a messy pony tail. He pulled the door open, giving the red-faced soldier standing there a smile. “Private Storn, my apologies, I was just starting a bath. What can I do for you?”

“Governor Swan and his daughter request your presence, I believe it’s to thank you for saving Ms. Swan’s life.” Storn said, still red-face and clearly believing had caught Will in a private, self-intimate moment.  

“Of course,” Will answered with more confidence than he felt. “Give me a moment to change into something more appropriate.”

He shut the door, allowing the panic to show on his face as he pulled the same vest and jacket (his best) from this morning on and buttoned them rapidly. He yanked at his hair with a brush at the same moment he was pulling his socks on and he would have keeled over had Jack not steadied him.

“Stay here,” Will instructed as he pulled his shoes on, retying his now orderly hair up into a pony tail. It was the best he could do at the moment and he steadfastly ignored the slick and come that covered his lowers as he straightened his outfit, “I can’t imagine this will be long.”

Jack nodded, watching Will with a surprisingly intense look.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can – and please,” Will paused just before his door, giving the Dominant a weak smile, “try and stay out of trouble.”

_Please be here when I return._

Then he stepped out, grateful to see that Storn looked much more put together, and followed the red coat out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little quicker with the sexy times than we're used to in the Roux world, but Jack is a pirate. And, well, Will becomes one...so...also, hormones. This is why we have chaperones. Hopefully it's not too fast and everyone is IC. Love.


	3. Preheat: A Deeply Thought Out Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further Will got from the smithy, the more he began to question his actions. What was he doing? Agreeing to mate with a pirate? While he didn’t know enough about Jack (and wasn’t that the real kicker?) to know if he was a rogue – a Dominant that cared little for their rules and sanctions and took whatever they wanted, even if the Submissive objected – he was still a pirate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm on a roll. This fandom is eating my mind.
> 
> Un-beated.

The further Will got from the smithy, the more he began to question his actions. What was he doing? Agreeing to mate with a pirate? While he didn’t know enough about Jack (and wasn’t that the real kicker?) to know if he was a rogue – a Dominant that cared little for their rules and sanctions and took whatever they wanted, even if the Submissive objected – he was still a _pirate._

And how much, Will wondered, of that mattered? Did being a pirate truly matter when one was also a Roux? When one’s entire life was based on lie, when necessity made them killers who lived outside of Human’s rules? He shook his head, ignoring the lump in his throat and the sting to his eyes as he climbed the steps to the governor’s mansion. He’d never missed his carrier more; Henry Ferrier had an answer for everything when Will was young, and he knew that had his father been here none of what had taken place between he and Jack would have happened.

That was why chaperones were meant to be present, moderating the actions between single Roux to keep them from escalating to something that could never be taken back, too keep them from being swept up in the lust of their young bodies, to stop them from acting in a manner that would provide nothing but harm in the long run. What would have happened if Private Storn hadn’t arrived? Would he allowed Jack another round, allowed his mouth, his touch – allowed him to penetrate?

The wanton thrill that accompanied that idea was the only truth Will needed.

He would have allowed Jack anything in that moment, so taken was his preheat body with the scent and feel of a compatible Dominant. If what Jack had said was true…he could just picture it, living in some grand plantation house while cubs with their mixed coloring and personalities all of their own running around, Will happily cooking a meal with spices he never knew existed while his stomach was gravid with child. But that was only if Jack had meant what he said; he knew nothing of Jack, nothing the type of Roux he was.

No, Will vowed, there was still a handful of days before his heat, he’d have to know more of who Jack Sparrow was before he’d agree to give away his matehood.

He was lead into the parlor, where Elizabeth was sitting on a loveseat before a fully stocked tea tray, her nimble fingers busy with a needlepoint. She put the work away when he entered, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, entire person perfectly put together as if she hadn’t just fallen to her near death a scant hour or so ago.

She was a lovely woman, there was no denying it, but Will felt little but fraternal affection for her as he sat in a hard back wooden chair besides her. “It’s good to see you well, Ms. Swan.”

“Will,” she said sternly, “how many times must I tell you to call me ‘Elizabeth?’”

“At least once more, Ms. Swan.” Will teased, chuckling at the good natured exchange. It felt good to be back on even ground, back in a situation he recognized and could control.

“I must thank you once again for coming to my rescue, Will.” Elizabeth said earnestly, leaning forward until their hands were but a scant few inches apart. An innocent act and yet at the same time quite scandalous. As she did, Will noticed a golden necklace around her throat. Whatever decorations it must have held were hidden beneath her bodice, and the shine and quality of the chain was not one that Will recognized as one of Elizabeth’s small but valuable jewelry collection.

“You thanked me enough in the moment, Ms. Swan, as did Commodore Norrington.”

At the name, Elizabeth’s face soured slightly. She leaned back, straightening her skirt as her hands folded primly in her lap. “Yes. Well.”

“Oh come now, Ms. Swan,” Will needled, enjoying the conversation immensely, “surely you must see how taken he is with you.”

“I am…aware of the Commodore’s feelings towards me.” Elizabeth said slowly, brows furrowing ever so slightly. Her sharp, brown eyes flickering from her folded hands to his face. “He asked me for my hand today, in fact.”

She was watching for his reaction. While any affection she had felt for him once had long stopped being one of a romantic nature, Elizabeth was aware of Will and James’ close friendship. “Did he? That’s a smart match, Ms. Swan.”

“Indeed.” The words were crisp, slightly bemused. “I haven’t given him my answer.”

“Forgive my boldness, but is there some reason you’re hesitant about his bid for your hand?” Elizabeth said nothing, merely looked away as her lips pursed. Will sighed, breaking formality for a moment to reach out and clasp her hands with one of his own. “Elizabeth, James is a fine man with a future ahead of him. He cares very deeply for you – has for years – and I doubt you’ll find a better man to call husband.”

“I know. He’s a fine man, the finest one I know – you withstanding, of course. And yet…and yet I find myself…unsure.”

“It is a very important decision.” Will noted, leaning back in his seat at the sound of the governor’s cadence on the stairs. “I’m sure James won’t mind you taking your time to mull it over. But I can assure you that his feelings towards you are very true – and very deep. He could give you so very much, I doubt there is a man on this island or in England that would allow you so many freedoms in marriage.”

“But only so much as what society dictates.” Elizabeth said dryly as she began to pour the tea.

“Yes,” Will agreed, taking the cup offered to him, because it was a truth of both their worlds, “only that much.”

In the end, Will ended up being roped into staying for dinner, his saving of Elizabeth seemingly enough to do what years of tender and platonic friendship could not – push Governor Swan feelings towards him into ones of warmth. The Human postively could not stop gushing about Will throughout the dinner, promising to make enquirers with other, local colonies about their need for a blacksmith, and calling Will ‘my boy,’ whenever possible.

He and Elizabeth shared a few bemused looks at the governor’s expense, but both took the change in attitude with gratefulness. While it was clear to everyone else that Will’s and Elizabeth’s feelings for each other were nothing but friendly, her brief crush had left a rather sizable imprint on Weathersby mind, shaping all their interactions to come.

When he did finally leave, the sun was low on the horizon and the food sat heavily in his stomach with the thought of Jack waiting for him back in his room. Will was utterly unsure what he was going to do about that mess. If he told Jack that he did not know if he wanted to share a heat with him, would the Dominant just up and leave? And why did he find that thought so very, very upsetting?

But surely, if the rejection of a shared heat broke whatever small bond the two had grown, did that not mean that Jack was not the Dominant for him? But the idea of being trapped on Port Royal any longer, of spending yet _another_ heat alone and desperate made everything inside Will twist up and shrivel. Could he handle it? Would he stay sane now that he knew what the touch of Dominant felt like?

He’d only made it as far as the great gates to the mansion when the sound of his name stopped him, and Will turned to find Elizabeth hurrying after him. “Oh good, Will, I caught you.”

“Ms. Swan? Is everything alright?” He asked, steadying the woman as she pressed a hand to her breast, trying to catch her breath.

“Yes, yes. These corsets are just impossible, I don’t know how the women in London do it.” She said breathlessly, fanning at herself with one hand. “Utterly impossible. I wanted to thank you again for this morning and for taking the time to speak with me, it means so very much to me to know that I have someone I can unburden my mind to without judgement.”

“Not at all, Ms. Swan. I treasure our friendship as well.”

She looked at him, brows furrowed and expression suspicious. “Is something wrong? I only ask because – well, all throughout dinner you looked rather off. I’d like to think of our friendship as reciprocal and if there is anything I could aide you with, I’d like to.”

Will gave her an earnest smile, touched by her concern, but the troubles of a Roux was something she could never understand – even if the matters of courting and mating was perhaps the only thing that she _may._ “Our friendship is very much so, Elizabeth, but I don’t want you to concern yourself. I’m merely frustrated with Earnest and I find myself growing weary of my future as my apprenticeship grows to an end. I often wonder if Earnest has saved anything for me at all.”

“He better have,” Elizabeth said darkly, eyes furious, “if he hasn’t I swear I’ll have my father string him up. Anyone with eyes can see you’ve done the brunt of the work these past few years. Even if that is the case my father won’t allow you to leave penniless, not after today at least. And, here,” she held out her closed hand and Will obediently placed his underneath it, catching the medallion that dropped down, “this is yours.”

Will stared mutely at the medallion, tracing the laughing skull with his fingertips. “I thought I lost this, years ago in the sea. It’s the only thing I have to remember my father by. Why did…?”

“Please forgive me, Will.” Elizabeth begged, clasping their hands together over the meaty thing, “I was very young when we found you and I feared it made you a pirate.” _A pirate,_ Will thought hysterically, _just like the one I almost mated with earlier._ “I didn’t know what I would do if James or the other sailors put you back in the water. Looking back I realize how very silly the whole thing is and honestly, I meant to give it back to you ages ago but…but I suppose I liked having a secret, even if it wasn’t mine to keep.”

“I’m not upset,” Will reassured, squeezing the smooth, delicate hands, “really, I’m not. Thank you for giving this to me, Elizabeth. It means a quite bit of deal to me.”

They parted there, neither daring to hug and give the servants anything more to gossip about, and Will’s mind was spinning as he made his way home. The amulet was the reason why he’d abandoned the idea of finding his sire; how could he ask questions if he had nothing to jog anyone’s mind? It wasn’t as if he fully remembered his father’s appearance. He thought if he made it to Tortuga, showed it to a few people, someone would surely recognize its uniqueness and point him in the direction of Bill Turner. Of course, looking back, that was a terrible idea and Will most likely would have had his throat slit and robbed rather than gained any information.

But now…

Perhaps there was still hope, maybe he could find his sire. Then he could ask for advice about Jack – that was assuming Jack was even still around. And there was still the matter of his heat…The sight of his smithy was both a great relief and a terrible point of stress and the Submissive paused before the door to catch his breath and place the medallion around his neck.

As much as he wanted to trust Jack (and it was frightening, how much he did) he was still a pirate and Will was weary of having gold around him. He tucked it into his shirt, tying it tightly to ensure it was hidden before stepping inside. Earnest was gone, moved to his private quarters no doubt, as was the money bag from this morning. Will made his way quietly up the stairs, not wishing to wake or gain the attention of his master and in no mood for a lecture about leaving the shop unattended (it had hardly been _unattended,_ it was hardly his fault if Earnest barely managed to stay awake a handful of hours) and made his way up to his room.

He took a deep, steadying breath before he opened his door.

It was empty.

The clawing sadness that struck him was as unexpected as it was powerful and the Submissive felt his face crumble, hands curling at his side at the sight of the empty room. He fought against the painful emotion, telling himself it was for the best – Jack had made his decision for him – as he changed into his sleeping gown.

The medallion was an unaccustomed weight against his breast as he curled into his sheets, a sob breaking from him finally at the presence of Jack’s scent still attached to his sheets. _It’s absurd,_ he thought as he hid his face in his pillow, the down muting the sounds of his crying. He barely knew Jack, had only share a handful of moments with him. True, it was a handful of _intimate_ moments, but hadn’t he just been trying to come up with a way to let Jack down gently? To tell him that while he may have already besmirched his honor, he was just not willing to mate with a Roux he knew nothing about?

And yet still, _still,_ Will couldn’t keep his emotions to himself, falling asleep to the sounds of his own hitching sobs and aching heart.

* * *

The smithy was silent and still as Jack made his way back inside, but he still gave the interior a once over, the lifelong instincts of a thief hard to ignore. His feet were silent on the creaking wood of the steps, the bag of food he’d procured balanced carefully under his arm. He opened the door to Will’s bedroom with just as much care, the rusted hinges barely giving complaint as he slid them open than closed.

Will was finally home it seemed, asleep on his back, his sheets kicked loose by his feet. Jack set the bag by the side of the bed, taking a moment to close the shutters before lighting the candle by his bedside. The light threw the Submissive’s features into sharp relief and the Dominant was quite unsettled to find Will’s face flushed even in sleep. He reached out, gently pressing his palm to the smaller Roux’s forehead but frowned when he found no sign of the fevers that were so common with preheat.

He wondered if he should wake him or let him get the sleep he so undoubtedly needed, but in the end Jack reached out, shaking the Submissive gently. Will’s face furrowed and Jack chuckled as a hand pushed roughly at him. “‘away.”

“William, luv, come on now. Wake up.” Jack insisted, shaking him slightly harder.

“Mm.” Will mumbled with a sigh, a hand coming up to rub at his face before he blinked awake. For a moment the younger Roux just looked at him, then to Jack’s confusion (and no small amount of horror) the Submissive let out a sob, hand’s flying to cover his face as he rolled onto his side, back to the Dominant.

“Will?” Jack asked, confused – and if he was completely honest, _offended_ – by the reaction. “William, what....are you alright?”

There was another sob and Jack swallowed harshly, heart throbbing painfully at each of the sad, broken sounds. No Dominant enjoyed seeing a Submissive upset – they were just hardwired like that, and yet Jack felt an unreasonable swell of anger growing in his chest that Will could induce such a feeling in him. He didn’t like feeling compulsory about anything, and yet he felt frantic to silence the terrible sounds, to fix whatever was wrong.

“Will,” he forced the Submissive back onto his back, fighting (and perhaps loosing) to keep the annoyance from his voice, “what the hell’s wrong with ya?” He yanked the hands down, lips curled in distaste. “Answer me, damn’t.”

Wet eyes stared up at him, tears trailing steadily down Will’s cheeks, and the sight of them made something break painfully inside the Dominant. “You left.” Will managed, voice strangled and hurt, “after we – I came back and you – you were _gone.”_

“Oh.” Jack said, suddenly feeling stupid, and he sat abruptly on the bed, pulling the brunet into his lap. Will latched onto him, making the guilt he felt grow as the Submissive hid his face in the collar of his jacket, still sobbing. “No, luv – I just went ta get food. I’ve been at sea for weeks, I needed to eat.”

He pressed a kiss to soft curls, hugging the trembling frame tightly. He’d laughed right in his sire’s face when Edward had tried to explain to him the pull of a Submissive – especially a compatible one, one that he would want to call his own, and Jack was filled with the uncomfortable feeling that he needed to look his old man up and apologize.

Because this? Having a heartbroken Will in his arms who was convinced Jack had abandoned him? This was hell. And he’d only known the boy for a scant few hours. He pressed another handful of kisses against his crown and tried to move them lengthwise against the poorly stuffed mattress, gritting his teeth as Will clung to him even tighter, as if afraid the actions were to leave him once more.

“Will,” he cooed, the rare edge of desperation to his voice, “Will, lovely, I promise I wasn’t thinking about – I’d never leave ya. I meant what I said.” He laid them over the bed, Will’s grip unmoving and unbreakable, and Jack blanketed the Submissive with his body, as he’d seen his sire do to his carrier a thousand times before, hoping it would comfort him even a little. “Gonna mate ya, gonna fill you up with my seed, take you from this place and give ya my home.”

Will’s breath hitched, finally pulling back to rest against the pillows, legs falling limp from his waist. “I’m scared. I’m so scared of you. I came back here convinced I was going to tell you to leave, that I needed more time – that I couldn’t share a heat with someone I don’t know. But then you were gone and I – I couldn’t _stand_ it and that scares me so much, Jack!”

“You think I’m not unnerved?” Jack shot back, pressing his forehead against the Submissive as he framed his face in his hands. “Ya think this is what I was expectin’ when I came here? I’m a pirate, savvy? It’s not the kind of life one lives and expects ta have a family.” Not yet anyway, perhaps never. Outside of a few pleasurable tumbles with likeminded Submissives, Jack had never felt the urge to own, to possess like he did with this boy. “Then there ya are, smell’n so sweet and ripe, just waiting for someone ta take.”

“It has to be more than that, Jack.” Will pressed, eyes squeezing shut and causing tears to cascade down his cheeks, “it has to be more than just – than just smelling right to each other. I want to be loved, I want – I want…”

Jack knew what Will wanted, but he didn’t know if he could promise it to him. But the idea of losing him, of leaving Will behind for another Dominant to snatch up was just too much. “We’ll wait.” He breathed out, hardly believing his own words. “Till after yer heat. When we can both think.”

It went against everything in Jack’s life, against the ideas and principals he’d lived his life with; _take what you can, give nothing back._ And yet here he was, promising things he had no idea if he could give. But as those pretty eyes peered up at him with awe and appreciation, a tender hope in them that made everything Jack tighten than loosen with relief, he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Slowly, with an unnecessary carefulness, Will’s arms curled around him.

“Do you mean that?” He asked softly, eyes searching Jack’s face.

“As much as I can, Will. I’m not good with tender affections and all that, but fer you, I’d try.”

It may be the most honest answer Jack had ever given in his life. Will nodded, leaning up and capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. “I’m so glad you came back.”

Jack nodded, struck dumb by the tenderness in a life that knew little of it, and lifted himself up by his elbows as Will shifted and squirmed, moving about until he was on his stomach, the vulnerable length of his back and neck to Jack as he curled around his pillow.

“I’m so tired, Jack.”

The Dominant let out a low sound of agreement as settled himself atop him, the smaller body completely covered with his own. He nuzzled into the smooth flesh of his neck, planting an open mouth kiss there.

“Ya hungry, luv? I’ve got somethin' fresh, not cooked but still good. Some ginger drunkard at the tavern who insulted me beard. I think he was a tailor or somethin’, hope you weren’t too attached to him.”

“Maynard, I bet. The man never did know how to hold his tongue.” Will said with yawn. “His wife’ll notice him gone right quick, but they’ve been on the outs since she found him with one of the governor’s maids in their shop. But no – no thank you. In the morning mayhap, I don’t feel much like moving right now.”

“Sleep then.” Jack said softly, reaching out to pinch the candle out, “I’ll be here when ya wake.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, luv, I promise.”

“Jack?”

“Hm?”

“Just…leave a note, next time. Or something.”

The Dominant chuckled, looping his arms underneath Will and eliminating any space between them. “Aye, that I can do.”

* * *

In the end, they managed only a handful of hours of sleep. The sounds of guns shocked them awake, Jack’s arms tightening around him as Will tried to spring from bed. A low, warning growl stilled his attempts to escape the heavy body atop him as explosions rocked the town around them. Something stuck near them, the sound of the percussion so loud it shattered the bedroom window.

“I know those guns.” Jack shouted, leaping from the bed, but when Will moved to follow the Dominant snarled angrily as he pointed sharply at him. “Ya stay right there, away from the broken glass. Ya’ve got no shoes on.”

It only struck him them that Jack was fully dressed, that he’d been fully dressed for the entirety of every interaction they’d had so far, and Will would have laughed if he wasn’t so nervous. He stood on his knees, eyeing the – frankly – furious expression on the Dominant’s face before quietly reaching for his clothing.

He had his breeches on, tucking his night gown into it and was securing the nearest pair of shoes (his smithy boots, thick leather things that went to his midcalf and were stiff and uncomfortable, but protected him easily from whatever the forge had to throw at him) before Jack noticed his actions.

“And just what the hell do ya think you’re doing?”

“This is my territory, Jack!” Will shot back, standing defiantly now that he was clothed. “I’m not going to just sit on my hands while it’s invaded.”

The Dominant’s face twisted in dislike but nodded as he swung his belt on, loosening his sword in its scabbard. “Ya stay near me, in my sight, you hear?”

Will nodded, wrapping his gun belt loosely around his hips as he kicked one of his swords up with his feet, catching it easily.

“Fancy,” Jack said, a grin flashing across his face momentarily. “But still – ya stay with me. Ya don’t know what kinda of monsters these men are, but I do.”

“You know them.” Will noted shrewdly, off-put and uncomfortable with the idea. No matter how he wanted to ignore it, the fact that Jack was pirate was continuously thrown in his face.

“Aye, that I do.” Jack said with a swear. “That’s my ship out there. These mutinous bastards stole it and they’ll be none too pleased ta see o’Jack again.”

Will nodded, mouth dry, before throwing the door open and charging down the stairs. Earnest was nowhere to be seen, but that hardly mattered as Will stopped by the weapons rack, throwing a handful of items to Jack even as he loaded himself up to the brim.

“Who makes all these?” Jack asked as he tucked a broad one-handed axe into his belt.

Will threw him a proud grin. “I do.”

“Talented little carrier, aren’t ya?”

“In more ways than one.” Will agreed with a smirk, than blushed intensely despite everything at how that sounded. Jack sent him a truly lurid grin, eyes sharp. He looked stunningly handsome like this, handsome and deadly, and Will could not think of a more alluring sight then the Dominant ready for battle with _his_ weapons.

The sounds outside were growing extremely more violent and Will felt the good humor fade, steeling himself for the violence he knew was waiting for him just outside. Before he could open the door he was being pulled backwards, Jack’s grip on him as harsh and unforgiving as the kiss he received.

When they broke away Will was panting, slick dripping from him and making Jack’s face turn even more feral. “Give no quarter, luv, they’ll give none ta you.”

Will nodded, bracing his shoulders as he opened the door and launched himself out, catching a nasty looking pirate with an axe to the back. Everything was a strange sort of blur. Will was aware of the men who fell to his blades, of Jack behind him – never more than a handful of paces away – and the Submissive was so glad for the Dominant’s constant presence that it hurt.

Despite the ferocity of his race and their pretention for slaying Humans, this was his first real battle. It was clearly not Jack’s and the other Roux was practically violence incarnate, cutting down anyone – pirate and civilian a like – that got too close to either of them. It made something inside him hot and bothered, seeing how strong this Dominant was, how fiercely he defended Will from those that would do him harm.

He watched Jack just a touch too long – a blade caught him at unawares, cutting swiftly from his left and Will let out a high pitched yelp of alarm as he darted out of the way at the last moment, the sword tip slicing his night gown clear in half and leaving a shallow cut across his chest. Still, it hadn't manage to gut him and Will swung around to face his attacker – and froze.

The pirate (was it a pirate even?) glowed eerily in the moonlight, it’s body more skeleton than Human, and as Will watched it’s milky white eyes darted to his exposed chest – to the medallion – before it’s half rotted mouth twisted into a grin.

“Found ya, boy.”

“Will!”

And then Jack was there, a swirling blur of fabric and metal as he decapitated the skeleton’s head in one swift swipe. He kicked at it with his foot and Will’s stomach twisted in revulsion when he realized that head was still alive, still making expressions and words as it cursed up at Jack.

“So,” he heard the Dominant mumble as he pressed down hard enough for the skull to crack and the skeleton to shriek in pain, “there is a curse.”

Suddenly arms were wrapped tightly around him, pulling the Roux clean off his feet and Will shouted in surprised fervor, trying to twist free as his head smacked back again and again in the hopes of catching his assailant in the face. The hold on him as like iron though, and whoever held him must have been giant because his strikes only smacked against a solid shoulder.

Jack spun around at his cries, expression murderous as he leapt forward – only to still and crumble, a blow to the back of his head rendering him completely unconscious. Will shrieked at the sight of it, the sound wholly unhuman, and redoubled his attempts to escape, Jack’s name so frequent a cry on his lips it was like breath.

“Jack! _Jack!_ I swear to god if you hurt him I’ll feed you your own innards, you half-rotten basta-”

Then there was a sharp, blistering pain against the back of his head and Will knew nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Will and Jack. And poor Elizabeth, since her and her smart mouth has also ensured her capture. And poor James, who's going to be so distraught with the loss of both his love and his little brother figure. And poor Governor Swan...fuck it, poor everybody.
> 
> Cheers!


	4. Preheat: An Uneasy Accord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never before – not even after losing the Black Pearl had Jack felt so overwhelmed at his own stupidity, shamed at the sight of what his hubris had done to himself. If it cost him this, Jack would never forgive himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Warning for bad touch Barbossa.
> 
> Un-betaed.

Will woke to heat.

It ate at him, making his body shake and his skin sticky, but the Roux knew that despite its intensity he hadn’t truly hit heat yet. There was the sound of muffled, pushed singing – the sounds clearly made around a weary mouth, and the bright light of morning cast over his closed eye lids, but it was the gentle rocking of the sea that garnered the most of his attention. His eyes felt sticky and heavy, but when he finally managed to force them open it was to the stunning sight of Elizabeth Swan in the warm morning light, beautiful eyes red-rimmed and frustrated as she rested with his head in her lap, long fingers carefully untangling his messed hair.

“What? Where –”

“No,” she said quickly, hands pressing down on his shoulders when Will tried to rise, “stay still. You have a terrible fever, it must be from your cut.”

His…cut?

It all came back to him in a rush and Will jack-knived in the bed, avoiding colliding their heads by a mere few inches. He looked around desperately, Jack’s name a muted cry on his lips, but of course the Dominant wasn’t there. “Where are we?”

_Where was Jack?_

“I know this may be hard to believe, but we’re on the _Black Pearl,_ Will. It’s…it’s a real ship and it really is crewed by the damned.” Elizabeth explained, shaking hands pushing the weight of her thick hair over one shoulder. “While you were unconscious, I had an opportunity to dine with their captain – a foul man named Barbossa – and the things he showed me…I don’t know if I can properly explain it. It’s ungodly.”

“I don’t understand,” Will murmured as he leaned heavily against the wooden ship side, “how did you end up here?”

“They took me for ransom at first, I think.” Elizabeth said, shaking her head as she stared at her clasped hands. “After I was on board I remembered the pirate’s code – you remember how much I loved those books when I was younger? I managed to negotiate a parlay, but Will…the only thing that would guarantee the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal was _you._ The living child of Bill Turner.”

“My father?” Will murmured, confused. He brought a hand up to yank at his shirt, pulling it looser around his neck. He always had a tendency to sweat more in the mornings when in preheat and it seemed despite his precarious situation his body was willing to give him no quarter. “Why would they be looking for my father?”

Elizabeth bit her lip, looking uncomfortable. “The medallion, Will. You said it belonged to your father, correct? Well, they’ve been looking for it for years. Your father – Bill ‘Bootstraps’ Turner was a…pirate, on this very crew. You see, they apparently found a cursed treasure and…oh, I hear how mad this sounds to say out loud.”

The Human’s words drifted off, looking slightly lost. She was not alone. “My father was a pirate? No, no, he was a sailor. That’s what my c – mother told me.”

But...was that actually true? It was so long ago and his memories were so fuzzy. He could clearly recall hearing stories of his sire’s adventures at sea, but did he have any memory of Henry ever speaking of him being in the Navy? Or the merchant marines? Or even a contract sailor?

“They seemed very sure.” Elizabeth insisted quietly, “and your medallion, Will, that’s what they’re after. I know it sounds mad, but after they stole the treasure that it was a part off, a curse was placed on upon them. It denies them any mortal pleasures; they cannot sate their hunger or thirst or…or lust. And in the moonlight –”

“They turn into the undead.” Will finished, feeling oddly numb and distant from his own body. That explained what he’d seen in Port Royal; it hadn’t been a part of some horrible dream. The undead…and he’d just left Jack behind with them. What if…what if the Dominant was dead? Had it really only been a scant few hours since they’d been lying contently in his bedroom?

Hands suddenly clasped his fever-hot ones, pulling them close. “You believe me then, Will?”

He squeezed them tightly back, wondering just how he was going to manage to get them both out of this mess. “I know more than most that monsters are real.”

“That’s understatin’ a bit, don’t ya think lad?” A loud, raucous voice calls from behind them and both Human and Roux flung themselves around to face it so quickly they half-fell/half-stumbled from the bed.

The captain – and it must be Captain Barbossa – stood so tall that he needed to duck in to enter through his own cabin doors and while some of it may have been attributed to the outrageously tall hat he has on, most of it is just pure, raw breeding. He was at least in his fifties, but it was hard to tell an exact age with what years of sunlight and hard living has done to his skin, and even harder to pin down due to his Roux nature.

But while this…creature…before him is clearly a Dominant of his own kind – or he had been once – Will had never smelled anything so repulsive in his life. The first lungful he got sent him hacking and coughing, hiding his nose in his elbow as Elizabeth worried, her long arms wrapping tightly around him as she glared at the foreign Dominant.

Suddenly Jack’s mutiny story makes much more sense, though Will couldn’t imagine _what_ he could have been thinking to agree to take on another Dominant he couldn’t trust either through blood or kin-matehood onto his ship. It was asking for disaster; while Submissives often found ways to coexist together and used those same skills to keep unrelated family units from fighting over shared territories, unmated Dominant’s rarely could handle the sight of each other, much less share such a small area like a ship. From what Will recalled, it was difficult for adult Dominants in the same family to exist in the same space.

What had Jack been thinking? Sure, the Dominant was an inherently arrogant thing – Will already knew that despite their short time together – but this seemed to imply a blind pride as well. Barbossa stepped further into the room, his presence so large that it seemed to shrink around him, and sent a sneer at the sight of their huddled forms.

“Walk with me, boy.”

“He will not!” Elizabeth said sharply, her arms tightening around Will’s heated frame. “He’s ill, and what’s more Will will go nowhere without myself.”

Barbossa’s sharp eyes flickered to the Submissive, but Will did nothing to counter Elizabeth’s words. He was just as unwilling to be separated from his Human friend. His pre-heat may be entering its last stages, but Will would still do everything in his power to protect her wellbeing should the need arise.

Barbossa’s head bowed minutely. “Of course tha’s yer choice, but I’m not sure this is a conversation that ya’ll want ta be having in front of the misses.”

Will paled, swallowing around the nausea that racked his frame. He was loathed to give the Dominant any quarter, but he was equally unwilling to have his nature revealed to Elizabeth. He quieted her sharp protests as he carefully untangled himself from her grip, ignoring the judging stare he felt on his back as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

 “Will, _no.”_ Elizabeth gasped, hands pulling at his shirt in an attempt to pull him back down on the bed. “Don’t be mad, stay with me. We can look after each other if we’re together.”

“I’ll be fine, Elizabeth. I have questions of my own I wish to ask.” He patted her hand gently, ignoring the guilt he felt at the sight of her distress. “I’ll return shortly. He won’t harm me.”

“How on earth can you say that? How can you know that?” The Human asked, clearly gobsmacked at Will’s casual words.

In truth, he knew nothing of the sort. All he could hope was that his status as a Submissive would keep him from coming to much harm. As a rule, Dominant’s were fiercely protective of the females of their race and while Jack’s actions seemed to highlight a lack of care when it came to the rules that guided a Roux’s life, Will hoped that in this a pirate Roux would still hold true.

He pressed a kiss to his friends clasped hands and turned, bracing himself with an unknown willpower to keep his legs steady as he crossed the captain’s cabin. Barbossa stepped out of the way, his smile a smirk as he bowed slightly and held the doors open for him. The harsh Caribbean sun beat down upon him as he stepped out onto the deck, lessened only slightly by the breeze that filled the _Pearl’s_ sails. Various crew members glanced up at him, but most seemed content to ignore him as they worked hard to clean and prep the ship’s deck and masts.

Barbossa lead the way around the cabin’s entrance and up a pair of steps leading towards the quarterdeck. Will followed, working hard to keep the grimace from his face as his thighs slid against each other and the feel of the now sticky fabric of his small clothes and breeches. The fact that he was leaking slick and blood brought the uncomfortable knowledge that the other Roux must certainly smell it and Will felt a new fear grip his heart tightly.

_“It denies them any mortal pleasures; they cannot sate their hunger or thirst or…or lust.”_

Elizabeth’s voice rang in his mind and Will could only hope that this curse would keep his virtue intact. In what would most likely be far from the last time he’d think such a thing, Will wondered how on earth he managed to get here. Just a few days ago he’d been rushing through his orders, preparing for another week spent alone and overwhelmed with the thought of another lonely heat. Now he’d been kidnapped, standing on the deck of a mythical ship as he wondered which of the two pirates he’d meet in the last handful of days would take his virginity.

_Jack…_

He wanted it to be Jack, Will realized with a strange leap of his heart. He may have only spent a handful of hours with the Dominant, but their compatibility was clear in the response of their bodies, and his touch was so careful and gentle, his protection so fierce that night in Port Royal. Perhaps – most likely – it was foolish how quickly he’d settled on the unknown Dominant, but the thought of anyone else taking his heat filled Will with a revulsion he’d never known before. The same fate most likely would befall Elizabeth…Will had to find a way to escape.

But how? Nothing but clear blue water that went on uninterrupted for miles and miles met his stunned gaze as he stood on the quarter deck, waiting for whatever discussion Barbossa wished to begin. The captain had dismissed the crewmen at the helm, looping a rope around the wheel to keep it on course, before turning to stare at Will. Bright blue eyes ran over his frame in an unashamed once over, one that left Will feeling dirty and exposed, and Will could take the silence no more.

“You knew my father.”

“Aye, that I did, the traitorous bastard.”

“So it’s true,” Will said softly, looking away, “he was a pirate.”

“As true as any cast of that mold.” Barbossa agreed. “A pirate to his bones, enough so that he betrayed me and m’ men, left us ta toil in eternal torment under this curse. Aye, boy, yer sire was a pirate alright. The worst of the lot. But make no mistake, his wrongs _will_ be righted.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked slowly, refusing to allow an inch of the fear he felt into his voice.

“The only way to break the curse is by blood, boy. Each one of us has paid our dues, but fate is a twisted mistress; we’d already killed Bootstrap before we knew we needed his blood.”

“You…you killed him?” His sire was dead? Will felt something in his chest break, the painful death of a long held dream. Even after all these years Will had still hoped that one of his parents may still live, that one day he would find himself in sire’s protective arms, held tightly as his father soothed away decades of hurt.

Barbossa’s lips twisted into a knowing smile. “In a way. We tied him to a canon by his bootstraps and threw him overboard. But ya see lad, he can’t die. He’ll forever drown in the deeps, but he’ll never die. Cursed, jus’ like the rest of us.”

Will let out a cry of hatred, pre-heat forgotten as he threw himself at the Dominant, fingers digging nail deep into whatever skin he could find as he struck at Barbossa’s face. But as soon as the assault began it was over and Will found himself pinned against the Dominant’s larger form, both wrists held tightly in one of Barbossa’s, unforgiving fingers yanking harshly in his hair, forcing his head back and exposing the length of his venerable neck.

His attack was a foolish one; even if he wasn’t already so weakened by the pre-heat, Submissives were not creatures of strength. They hunted through guile and stealth, it was their male counterparts that had been gifted with truly unnatural strength – brutes who could easily snap a Human in two if they wished. But Will couldn’t bring himself to care, not with the fate of his poor sire in his mind, and he snarled and seethed in the Dominant’s grip, teeth bared to the amused Barbossa’s face.

“Careful, boy.” His rich voice warned and Will stilled, eyes wide as a nose nudged against his adam’s apple, inhaling his scent deeply. “Yer in a precarious state right now, or have ya not paid that any mind? Practically at heat’s door, all alone with nothin’ but myself.”

“You can’t do anything.” Will breathed, defiant despite everything. “The curse won’t let you.”

“Ah, but the curse won’t last forever, dear William. And just because I can’t pop a knot doesn’t mean I won’t take what I want.” The grip on his hair disappeared and Will stiffened, eyes widening as panic erupted as a calloused hand slid easily beneath his breeches and small clothes. He went completely still, weary of both the touch and the sharp teeth that nipped at his throat.

How easily the Dominant could tear it out and end his life. But perhaps that would be preferable, Will thought as his eyes shuttered in horror as fingers slid down his slick crack to gently message his spasming hole. He gasped, hips hitching up to try and escape the unwanted touch, ashamed of the flare of pleasure deep in his belly as two fingers slid in.

He struggled – but only briefly – going still when a low, commanding growl echoed against his throat, teeth digging in harshly. The fingers probed deeper, finding the raised and swollen gland deep inside him and began massaging it. A thigh pressed between his own, rocking against his traitorous erection.

“You reek of him,” Barbossa said with disgust, his fingers pressing more intently, his thigh rocking faster. “I could smell Jack on ya the moment you stepped aboard. Sadly for you boy, there’s nothing I enjoy more in life than takin’ from Jack Sparrow.”

The fingers inside him pressed more insistently and Will’s hypersensitive body reacted with a vengeance and he fought against the rising tide of his orgasm. He dove forward, ripping at the Dominant’s throat with his teeth, unwilling to give anything of himself to this beast. The foul taste of his tainted blood made him want to vomit and he’d barely sunk his teeth in before he was backhanded roughly, the force of it sending him tumbling away and onto his knees.

Will crawled away from him on hands and knees, vomiting the meager contents of his stomach and was grateful for it when the sour taste chased away the haunting notes of Barbossa’s blood. He looked up, body shaking at the sight of Barbossa licking the mess of slick and blood from his fingers, seemingly utterly uncaring that a chunk of skin hung limply from his neck.

“Spiteful little thing, aren’t ya?” Will only bared his teeth, hands fisting against the fabric of his trousers. Barbossa crossed the small space between them, hold unforgiving as he gripped Will’s hair once more, yanking his head back to meet his furious blue eyes. “Make no mistake, I’ll take yer blood to break the curse and then I’ll mount you right there – in front of my crew and your little pet. I wonder if she’ll look at you so kindly with my knot deep in yer ass.” Barbossa said calmly, as if his words weren’t the end of Will’s world.

“I’ll kill myself before I ever let you mate me.” The Submissive said with a snarl, leaping to his feet, hands fisted at his side. He gathered whatever dignity he had left as he glared at the pirate captain. “I’d rather carve your cub from my belly then bare the child of a _rogue.”_

The accusative title and defiant words only seemed to amuse the Dominant, Barbossa’s head throwing back in a deep belly laugh as he rested his hands resting on his belt. “Do as you will, dear William. I only need yer blood, dead or alive it matters not to me.”

And then he strode away, leaving Will staring helpless at his back.

* * *

Jack awoke to the sight of a low, stone ceiling. For a moment the Dominant only stared at it, confused as he brought the sight of his shackled hands into sight. And then the memories came back to him. He leapt to his feet, eyes desperately searching for Will. But William wasn’t here. They’d taken him.

A rage quite unlike anything he’d ever felt bloomed in his chest, far stronger than even what he felt at the sight of the _Pearl_ leaving him behind and the Roux snarled loudly. He spun around, ignoring the ache in his skull as he drove his boot again and again into the small cot in his cell, the feebly made thing breaking easily under the strength of his strikes. He didn’t stop until it was nothing but a wooden mess beneath his feet, chest heaving.

Will was gone. How could Jack just let them take him? The thought of his little mate in the clutches of the one Roux who sought the destruction of all that Jack held dear made his stomach clench. Will was so close to his heat, what if –

_No._

Jack wouldn’t allow it.

He’d burn the world before allowed anyone to take his William. He began to pace the small cell, unable to do much else to calm the frantic energy that drove him, mind torn with the image of Will in the thick of his heat, Hector Barbossa hovering over him, that sly grin on his face. From the moment they’d met, Hector had been out to destroy him. Oh, Jack hadn’t seen it at the time. He’d taken the other Dominant on despite the warnings of his sire – hell, perhaps because of them. He’d been so confident, so full of heady smugness at the idea that he’d brought another Dominant Roux to heel so easily.

He’d never seen the mutiny coming, so convinced was Jack that he had Hector under his control. And now he had Will…The Dominant stood in the cell, staring at the bars that kept him from finding a way to his intended, and felt a level of helplessness that dwarfed any other moment in his life. Never before – not even after losing the _Black Pearl_ had Jack felt so overwhelmed at his own stupidity, shamed at the sight of what his hubris had done to himself. If it cost him this, Jack would never forgive himself.

_My Will…_

There was sound of movement from the jail hallway and Jack looked up, eyebrows rising at the sight of a Human male of some considerable naval rank making short work of the already short hallway. He paused at the door and Jack’s eyebrows rose even higher as the Human clicked it open, swinging the door open and –

Jack swore, stumbling backwards as his jaw erupted into pain. The Human that struck him was furious, shoulders and chest heaving as his green eyes seemed to burn as they glared at him. He was disheveled looking, wig and cover missing and his uniform jacket was open to reveal a sweaty chest and thin undershirt.

“You will tell me where your fellows have taken them, or I will _rend you.”_ He hissed, fists balling at his side as his entire frame quivered.

His anger was impressive, and yet Jack couldn’t quite hold back from baiting him. “Yer gonna have to be a bit more specific than that, mate.”

The Human surged forward and the Roux went with the move, letting him pin him against the wall with a thick forearm to his throat. “Ms. Swan and William Turner. Your pirate scum took them. You will tell me where they’ve taken them or I will personally ensure your last hours on this earth are ones filled with pain and agony.”

Interesting. The kidnapping of not only the governor’s daughter but William – a simple blacksmith apprentice – had driven this man to the very edge of breaking, and somehow Jack got the feeling that this outburst was quite unusual, if the way the two guards that stood just outside of the cell were gaping at him was anything to go by. This man was undoubtedly the Human male that Will had spoken of with such care, the friend of whom his Submissive apparently owed a life debt.

This, Jack could use.

He carefully pushed the arm away from his throat, taking a croaking breath as he gave the Human a level stare. “I call those men no friends of mine –” There was a snort of disbelief, but Jack ignored it. “ – though I have a fair idea where they’re taken them.”

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t as simple as that. Jack’s compass – enchanted as it was – was the only way he’d found the island last time and without the maps they’d drawn to charter their journey, there was no way that Jack could simply give the location. What’s more, Jack had no intentions of staying behind and meeting his end in Port Royal. He had no illusions that only death awaited him here and Jack had more to live for than he’d had in a very long time.

It was a queer thing, how quickly the idea of William settled in his plantation house, thick and swollen with their cubs had become the end all for Jack. A part of him knew it was simply the Roux way – compatible Roux rarely wasted time before mating and reproducing. Much of this was simple instinct; nature. Still, Jack wanted more for Will. His promise from the night before held true; Jack wanted to show the Submissive his family’s lands, show all the ways he intend to care and protect any family they made.

Roux only had a heat once a year and once Will had passed through his own, Jack had intended to bind Will so tightly to him that the Submissive could imagine nothing but belonging to Jack Sparrow. By the time he’d finished, Will would have been eagerly counting the days down to his next heat, sure in his possession. Will was _his._ He had been from that first moment on the beach and Dominant Roux – pirate or not – did not give up what belonged to them.    

But first he had to find a way to convince this Human to take him along.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Don’t lie,” the Human said sharply, a finger pointed threatening in his face. “I refuse to play these games with you, not when every moment brings Elizabeth and Will further from me. You _will_ tell me.”

“I can’t tell you,” Jack gritted, annoyed at being interrupted, “but I can show you.”

“You must be mad if you think your leaving this cell to anywhere else but the hang man’s noose.” The Human said with a snort.

“Take me with you.” Jack insisted, voice calm. “I will show you where they’ve taken your misses, but what’s more I know how these men think. I know them, I know their captain. I know what they’re planning,” – a slight lie – “and I know their tactics,” – a far truer truth – “I can show you their weaknesses. An honorable man like yourself? Ya don’t know half of what these men are capable of.”

To be honest, neither did Jack. The image of the James Wilkins in the moonlight, looking more dead than alive, haunted his memories. The curse was a real thing, Barbossa and his crew damned for eternity to live as the undead until it was broken, but Jack hardly knew exactly what that meant. What powers of hell did that give them? Wilkins had still been alive when Jack had removed his head, alive and well enough to curse Jack’s mother to hell and back.

And Will was _alone_ with those demons.

There was the shrink of metal and suddenly a blade was pressed against his throat. “You will tell me, pirate, or I will slit you open.”

“Kill me and ya’ll never find them.” Jack said, calling the bluff easily.

The Human let out a huff of frustration, but the blade fell from his throat. “Why would I believe you’d betray your fellows so?”

“Trust me, mate, they’re no friends of mine. I want ta see these men hang as badly as you do.” There were no lies in that statement and the Human seemed to sense it, eyes narrowing.

“No loyalty among thieves, then.”

“Oh I can be _incredibly_ loyal with the right incentive.” There was a sneer of disgust, but Jack let the Human’s judgement him roll off him like water.

“And what is your motivation here, Mr. Sparrow.”  

Jack’s smile was ruthless. “Revenge. Look, mate, it’s quite simple. Either ya let me guide ya there, or you say goodbye ta your bonny lass.”

The Human let out a long breath, eyebrows furrowed tightly as he glared at him. Behind him, one of the guards seemed like he was about to have a conniption. “Commodore Norrington, you can’t possibly be entertaining this madness!”

“Silence, Gillette.” The Human – Norrington – said sharply. “I have sworn to Governor Swan to bring his daughter home, unharmed and whole, and I will not fail in this. Regardless of what…unfavorable means I must do to do so, I will see my promise fulfilled.” The sword was suddenly back, resting just over Jack’s heart. “But mark my words, pirate, should you betray me or are incapable of delivering the location to me, I will kill you in the most painful way my quite boundless imagination can conceive of. Are we clear?”

Jack bit back on his pleased grin. “Crystal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, getting closer to the end. I had no idea that Bootstrap was stuck at the bottom of the ocean, unable to die and constantly drowning. Makes more sense why he decided to join up with Davy Jones. So, I caved and made Barbossa a Dominant. The next chapter contain Barbossa's own, fucked up form of courting if you guys like. 
> 
> Would you like that? Barbossa is a for real rogue Dominant, one who's been that way for a long time and probably from the start (not much like Tobias from the Hannibal story, who evolved into one) and he's way of thinking is very different from others. Jack's got touches of rogue in his personality, but it's more like he just flouts the rules but not outright breaks them. 
> 
> Let me know if this is what you want to see, it may bring the chapter limit up, especially as such a thing would bring up a lot of questions from Elizabeth. They'll be a sea for at least a week on their way to the island, and Will's heat will be rapidly approaching.


	5. Heat: A Timely Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The idea of mating with Barbossa was disgusting and Will would see himself dead before it happened. He didn’t know yet how he’d manage it, but he’d bite through his own tongue if that’s what it took. Never would he agree to a mating with a Rogue, much less to allow any chance of his seed taking root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beated.
> 
> Jesus, did this chapter fucking FIGHT me. 
> 
> Asshole chapter.

They’d taken Elizabeth from him. Will was unsure if that was a blessing or a source of fierce, blinding hatred. On one hand, the Human was not here to witness – and question – _this._ The Submissive gasped, hips squirming as he fought the urge to both grind his hard cock against the bed and to thrust his rump up to rub against nothing, desperate for comfort. His fingers were entangled harshly in Barbossa’s silken sheets to keep from touching himself, and he twisted the fabric so tight his fingers were white and bloodless.

The heat was in its early stages and already Will felt like he was losing his mind to the discomfort of it. His clothing felt too hot and oppressive, the cheap cloth scratchy against his sensitive skin. But Will would not touch, not with Barbossa sitting less than an arm’s length away, watching his struggling and aroused body with a look of blank observation. While Will honestly, truly, wanted it no other way, the lack of interest from a Dominant so close to him was disconcerting to say the least. A normal Dominant Roux would be tripping over his own knot so close to a Submissive in heat and Barbossa’s careless detachment was a haunting and nauseating rending reminder of just how _wrong_ the creature was.

Barbossa let out an annoyed sounding sigh. “I never realized jus’ how pathetic this looks from the other side.” The Dominant re-crossed his legs, “…’s quite disappointin’ actually.”

“Feel free to leave, you piece of–” Will snarled only to break off in high pitched moan as his trousers were suddenly inundated, the fabric sticky and uncomfortable against his thighs. Barbossa’s chuckle was low and deeply amused sounding, and he’d never hated someone more.

There was a shout from outside and Barbossa stood, tossing a wooden box onto the bed. “We’ll be there soon, try and make yerself a bit more presentable.”

Will glared at him, following his exit with loathsome eyes, and only when the door shut did he let out a loud pant, hands shoving his trousers and small clothes off until they were around his knees, a hand wrapping around his aching cock while he sank three fingers deep inside his hole. The orgasm was immediate and potentless, doing nothing to sooth the ache in his belly. The Submissive cried out, hips rocking up as he soiled his shirt and belly, and there was a loud ‘thud’ as his flailing struck the box Barbossa had left, sending it tumbling to the floor. Will leaned over the bed’s edge, eyes widening as he stared. The fall had jostled the box open and sent its contents rolling with the sway of the ocean. Will’s hand shook as he reached down, plucking the elegantly carved ivory phallus from the floor. Instantly he was even wetter, sopping hole clenching and nothing – not even the knowledge that the dildo had been a gift from a Roux he hated – could keep Will from shoving it in to base.

He arched violently at the feel of it parting him, eyes rolling back into his head. It was short – far shorter than Jack’s cock has been – but it made up for its lack of length by its incredible width, and Will began to work the phallus in and out of him, wishing desperately that it was Jack. Jack, with his dark skin and dark eyes, with his thick, angled cock plugging the hungry mouth of his womb. Will sobbed as he pushed another orgasm from his heated body, face hidden in the pillows, and tried to imagine his intended here with him.

Will had managed to beat the heat back - at least for now - with the aid of the phallus. He'd fucked himself to completion countless times until he'd broken the micro-heat, and when Barbossa had come to fetch him once more, Will was in a much better state than when the Dominant had left. He'd met the Rogue Roux with narrowed eyes and a grimace of hatred, trying to bash his head in with a coat rack he'd found. Barbossa had simply laughed at his defiance, disarming him with ease and pinning a snarling Will against the wall by his neck as he yanked the Submissive's trousers down, the tacky and well used ivory shoved back into his tender hole until the muscle closed behind it, trapping it inside him.

 _“Better ta keep ya nice and open fer me,”_ Barbossa had explained with a leering smile, _“as I plan on keeping my promise ta take ya on the alter, boy. An…offering, so ta speak. Best to not make the old Gods any angrier than ‘ve already have.”_

The idea of mating with Barbossa was disgusting and Will would see himself dead before it happened. He didn’t know yet how he’d manage it, but he’d bite through his own tongue if that’s what it took. Never would he agree to a mating with a rogue, much less to allow any chance of his seed taking root. He met up with Elizabeth on the deck and the woman’s face lit up in a relieved smile at the sight of him – only for the expression to darken in worry mere seconds later. She reached for him with her tied hands, eyes wide, and Will knew how terrible he must look. Sweat was a second skin by now, his hair wild and tangled, clothes hanging haphazardly off his body, and Will had never been so grateful that he’d chosen to leave his shirt untucked. His erection had never truly waned and it was painful, the sensitive head scraping against his pants with each step, the hard ivory inside him making his muscles contract.

“Will,” Elizabeth breathed, face pale, _“oh_ Will. Your fever’s gotten worse! Let me see the cut – Captian Barbossa, I demand that you seek medical attention for my friend at once! Surely you must have something that passes for a doctor on this damnable ship!”

Barbossa sniggered, stepping into the moonlight and Will watched – somewhere between nauseated and fascinated – as the Roux’s skin seemed to melt from him, leaving only ragged strips and an exposed skeletal frame.

“I’m afraid ya won’t be findin’ any doctors here, Miss,” the Dominant said as he pushed her towards the aftside ladder, “not on this ‘damnable’ ship.”

They were manhandled into one of several dingys and Will clutched the wooden seat with enough pressure that it nearly broke, eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming feeling the dildo made inside him with each rock of a wave. He refused to make a fool of himself – not in front of Elizabeth or Barbossa – but it was so hard not to react to the simpering heat under his skin or the hard cock (however artificial it was) inside him. In a few hours’ time it would matter very little; Will’s consciousness would never truly leave him, but his inhibitions would drop to nearly nothing with his heat in full swing. The rocky island they were rowing to seemed as desolated and unwelcoming as Will felt and the Submissive grit his teeth, searching for any way to escape.

But there was none.

How could there be?

He was stuck in the middle of the ocean, with only pirates and a rogue Dominant as his companions. Will wanted to scream, to snarl and bite, to _rage_ against the idea that this was to be his fate. Instead he sat as quietly as he could, Elizabeth’s worried gaze locked on him the entire way, and determinedly let none of what he was feeling show on his face.

They were lead to a treasure chamber, nothing more than a converted cave with a small raised island in the middle and waist high water surrounding it. There was an alter in the middle of it and a chest filled to the brim with gold that caught the light of the crew’s torches and lit the chamber in a dancing, almost playful light. Elizabeth was left in the rear of the group as Will was  dragged towards the altar and he watched as Barbossa took his hand, wondering if he could somehow throw himself down on the rogue's knife at enough of an angle to cut something important. But then the blade was moving, cutting across his palm as Barbossa spoke low words (an invocation, perhaps?) and dropped his father’s coin into the chest.

At first nothing happened and the crew mulled about, anxious to know if the curse that ruled them had been broken. Will had no such questions, he knew it had. Within seconds of the bloodied coin hitting the chest, Barbossa’s scent had shifted, grown muskier and fuller – _more alive_ – and Will shuddered as it ramped in intensity, the strength of Barbossa's arousal so strong it made him sneeze. The pirate captain’s grip on his arm tightened to the point of pain, pulling him against a suddenly warm and breathing chest. A shot rang out – a pirate dropped – and Barbossa cackled.

“The curse is done, me maties!” The pirates were beyond themselves cheering and swearing, grabbing each other or the food and drink they’d brought and guzzling it down, but the rogue paid them no mind. No, his attention was solely locked on  _Will._ The younger Roux shuddered, eyes shuttering as a nose was suddenly pressed against his hair, inhaling deeply, and an unmistakable erection was pressing insistently into his hip. “There, tha’s a lad.” Barbossa said, voice already beginning to slur, “now ya smell right. You’ll be a perfect first meal fer a starvin’ man.”

Will shivered in revulsion, striking out with a blow so harsh it sent Barbossa stumbling backwards. The pirate crew laughed raucously at the sight and the Dominant’s eyes blazed with hatred and humiliation as he glared at him, bringing a hand up to slowly wipe the blood from his lip.

“Ya’ll pay for that, lad. Several times over.”

Will bared his teeth, lips curling back in a snarl. “Touch me again and I’ll rip your dick off.”

“So feisty,” the Dominant drawled, taking a menacing step forward, “I’m gonna love breakin’ you.”

Will growled – the sound wholly inhuman and loud enough to startle the crew nearest to them – and his hand shout out, grasping the knife Barbossa had used to cut him and unthinking let behind, holding it at the ready. He was ready to fight to the death, even as slick coated down his thighs, his insides clenching over and over again around the carved ivory.

Yellowed teeth were bared in a parody of a laugh. “You really think you can take me, _boy?_ Weak from starvation and heat, it’d be easier fer everybody if ya give up now and save yourself the embarrassment.”

There was loud sounds – shots, Will realized – and suddenly the cave was a battlefield, English sailors and marines swarming in. Will let out a weak grin as he caught sight of James (because of course it was James, of course) fighting fiercely in front of a… _sword_ wielding Elizabeth. The Submissive would have laughed at the sight if he wasn’t so suddenly being pulled backwards. The water was cold and filled his lungs and nose before he thought enough to close his mouth, but by then he’d already breached the surface, kicking and shouting as he was dragged backwards. He fought like a cornered cat, hitting and biting with everything he had, but Barbossa’s grip around his wrists was unyielding, his expression half-mad with fury and spite as he somehow got them away from the fighting and – oh _god no,_ they were almost back to the beach, to the dingys – how had he gotten them there so fast?

“Let me go!” Will cried as he dug his heels in, struggling to free his hands as he slid arch deep in the sandy bottom, trying to slow their escape. “James!” Will shouted desperately over his shoulder, “James, Elizabeth!”

The blow caught him off guard, sending him careening into stone hard enough that his vision whitened and Will could feel the hot, sticky sensation of blood dripping down his face. Worn fingers gripped his chin, Barbossa’s face inches from his own, and Will stared up at the other Roux in confusion, the pain from the blow leaving him dimwitted.

“I’ll naught be leavin’ this with nothin’ to show for.” Barbossa hissed, spittle striking Will’s cheek with each word, “and ‘ve far too many promises ta keep with you, boy.”

He yanked Will up by his hair, the Submissive crying out when his legs failed to take his weight and left him on his knees, nails digging into flesh as he tried to free his beleaguered hair. The sound of a pistol cocking was startling loud despite the fact that there was a small battle taking place just a few feet away. Will blinked hard, trying to clear the tears and the strange, dull buzzing in his head, as he fought to comprehend what he was seeing. But – no, he wasn't mistaken, nor was it a hallucination from the blow. Jack was _here,_ blocking their path, expression flat and brown eyes cold as he stared at Barbossa from down the muzzle of his gun.

“Ya’ve got a bad habit of takin’ what’s mine, mate.” The sound of his intended’s voice made Will sob and Jack’s eyes darted down to him, the lines around his mouth and eyes tightening as his nostrils flared.

“What’s wrong, Jackie-boy?” Barbossa asked, voice coy and smug, “smell somethin’ you like?”

Will lashed out, hoping to catch the rogue at unawares in the side or groin, but Barbossa read the movement, the hand in his hair tightening even more as a fist smashed into Will’s cheek. The snarl that escaped Jack was vicious sounding, wild and terribly violent, and the Submissive’s head jerked up to stare at him just in time to see the muzzle flare.

Suddenly he was on his side, cast aside as Barbossa lunged forward, sword drawn.

* * *

Jack could never remember fighting like this. Then again, Jack could never remember being so _angry_ before either. The sight of his Will, beaten and bloody and smelling so headily of heat – it was too much, too much to even think. He was fighting rashly, each strike with more force than he’d ever put behind a blade, but every move ruled by the fury he felt. He was being sloppy, but it was hard not to, not when he was faced with the one creature in this world that Jack hated more than Cutler Beckett. No small feat by any means. This singular Roux had been the source of so many of his woes. Barbossa had taken his ship, left him to starve a slow death on a Human-less island, had thrown a good Roux to suffer to the sea, and now – now Will.

The last was also the least tolerable offense of all.

The strength of his relentless attacks were catching the older Dominant off guard, Hector’s own saber barely meeting his with each parry. But Hector had hardly lived as long as he had without being incredibly, annoyingly clever, and what he lacked in raw strength he made up with skill, exploiting Jack's heightened emotions and messy swordsmanship. The fight was taking too long. Jack had only minutes to secure his and Will’s escape. He’d set the Pearl to sea with only two people before, but the longer they waited the more Will fell into his heat and while Jack was good, he wasn’t good enough to get his ship moving alone. That was assuming he’d even be able to think. A few hours of exposure to Will’s siren scent would leave Jack at his most primal and he'd be lucky if he could remember his name much less be expected to pilot a ship.

And then there was the British.

While Jack and the Commodore had reached an uneasy agreement, both too intent on getting their mates back (though Norrington did not know it, he still believed Jack a knave motivated only by revenge) and to worried to even pick fights with each other on their frantic journey, whatever alliance they had ended once they'd reached the island. The Dominant had little doubt that if Norrington caught up with them now it’d be the noose for him and Will…then Will would be alone, to weather a heat surrounded by Humans who could never understand what was happening.

Jack couldn’t allow that, which meant he needed to end this fight now. He pressed harder, determined to overpower Hector if nothing else, and a particularly harsh blow sent the older Roux tumbling backwards – and directly into a waiting sword. Jack stood frozen, stunned, as his Submissive proceeded to gut Barbossa, the sword jerking inwards until it hit the pillar of vertebrae, before pulling out and to the side, cutting through and out of Barbossa’s trunk with a slick wet sound. Hector fell to his knees, sputtering as yellow foam slipped out around his lips, hands shaking as he tried to push his intestines back into his body. But Jack barely noticed – he couldn’t take his eyes off Will.

Will who stood victorious, eyes bright with hatred and spine straight despite the heat that weakened him or the blood that slid sluggishly down his face, looking far more beautiful than Jack had ever seen him. _Where had he even found a sword?_ Jack wondered in awe, but had little time to think anything else as Will was rocketing across the small space between them and Jack dropped his own weapon with a startled sound in favor of catching his wobbling intended. He wrapped both arms tightly around the trembling form, dragging his lips across a dirty forehead as he took deep, almost desperate inhales of his mate-to-be’s scent. Will was alive, in his arms. Jack almost couldn't believe it.

“You came.” Will gasped, fingers claw-like as they clung to him and Jack nodded, not trusting his own voice. He wrapped his arm around his intended’s waist, glancing once more at the still and greying form before all but carrying Will towards the dingy. It seemed unreal that Hector was dead, that Barbossa had met his end in such a fashion, at the hands of Jack's own Submissive. Pride filled him, so strong that it made his heart gallop in his chest. Of course, that could also be his reaction to Will's heat-scent.

“Couldn’t leave ya, could I?” He said softly after a moment, forcefully pushing the clingy Submissive into the boat before pushing it off, fight-fatigued muscles crying out as he worked it free of the beach. The cold ocean felt delicious against his sweaty lowers and Jack pushed the boat along until it was up to his neck, letting the feel of it center him, before pulling himself inside. He settled opposite of the Submissive, hands wrapped tightly around the oar handles to keep from reaching out to touch. Will was sweating, his scent so sweet and alluring, the floral-cinnamon scent somehow overwhelming the blood and dirt that covered him, and Jack kept his eyes locked on the approaching silhouette of the Pearl and away from the appealing sight.

The ship was moored on the opposite side of the island from where he’d come with the Royals, which mean they may actually have a chance of escaping without being blown apart. They just needed to – Jack’s thought caught off abruptly as Will whimpered, oars stilling as he watched unblinkingly as the Submissive began to grind his hips in a strange movement against the wooden seat, eyes squeezed shut and entire face tight with concentration as he rocked, as if he was just about to –

Jack cursed and looked away, oars dipping into the water with a new fervor, the burn in his arms and shoulders the only distracting from his pulsing, hard cock. “Luv,” Jack groaned as Will’s hand shoved inside his pants – fingering himself? The motion was almost right. Will was so much further along then Jack had thought. “Luv, ya gotta – I can’t – _fuck.”_

Will shuddered, breath practically a sob as his motions sped up. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m trying but I can’t – I have to –”

Jack snarled, shaking his head as if he could clear the scent blanking his mind by that alone. He fought the waves of lust that demanded he just sink knot deep into the Submissive, British be damned, and it took every inch of willpower Jack had to keep rowing, rowing so hard that his palms chaffed and his neck strained with the effort. Then – thank whatever gods looked after their kind because they were suddenly pulling up alongside the Pearl. Getting Will up the ladder was another form of hell, Jack forced to climb below him so he wouldn't fall, Will’s bottom practically resting on his shoulder as he forced them up it. The bottom of the Submissive’s trousers were completely soaked and having that scent so close – practically rubbing against his cheek - was...was...

Jack had the Submissive pinned on the deck moments later, mouth hard and demanding as he swallowed Will’s pitiful mews, grinding his hard cock against Will’s covered hole. Hands tangled in his dreads, knocking his hat lose and pulling him closer. Jack went willingly, hands rucking up Will’s shirt and splaying across a smooth belly. It was perfect; Will’s heat-scent called to him in a way nothing else ever had and the Dominant was beyond himself with the knowledge that it was _his;_ that no one else would ever get to smell it, to see Will like this – so limp and open, hot and wet just for Jack. He tore the linen by the neck until it revealed a peaked nipple, sucking from it hungrily as he ground his palm against Will’s covered cock, adding just the right amount of teeth to send the Submissive arching, howling underneath his touch.

But the sound was edged with pain, just enough to jolt Jack back from whatever mindless place his lust had taken him too. The Dominant pulled back, eyes narrowing at the sight of Will wincing, a hand pressed against the cut on his forehead. All at once the lust was gone, replaced by a need just as pressing; he needed to get his mate to safety. Jack hauled a startled and beleaguered looking Will to his feet, shoving him gently towards the Captain’s quarters.

“Go on.” He urged and turned, not looking to see if his mate obeyed before he ran a critical eye over the ship’s deck.

Not for the first time Jack thanked the lucky streak that seemed to rule his life. Barbossa was a tricky bastard, paranoid too, and he'd had the men prepare the ship for a hasty escape if needed. Even with only Jack to man it, he should be able to get the Pearl moving in short order, and the idea that he'd be with his in-heat Submissive far sooner than he'd thought spurred his movements all that faster. There was one moment of frustration; Jack’s compass kept spinning, unable to focus, and it took the Dominant a long moment to realize that was because his heart’s desire was currently waiting for him in his cabin – but then Jack forced himself to think of Tortuga, the only friendly port within miles, and the compass needle finally snapped North-East.

He roped the wheel in place, cursing as he jogged down the stairs. They’d just have to hope they wouldn’t run into another ship in the night. Jack had very little doubt that once he entered his quarters he wouldn’t be leaving again for at least a day. The Dominant carefully avoided the double doors, taking deep breaths of the sea air before he ducked into the stinking holds below, checking the orange marked barrels that he and Barbossa had used to keep their particular brand of salted meat. Jack needn’t had worried; despite seemingly being cursed, Barbossa had kept more of the cured meat then even Jack had ever had as captain. He pried one barrel open to check that its contents had not soured before carefully pressing the lid back down. The moment it had clicked into place Jack was off like a shot, mind focused utterly with mating now that he’d assured himself they were on their way to safety - and wouldn't starve on the way.

He yanked the doors to his quarters open, coat and boots lost on the deck behind him, hands frantically working his shirt free - and froze, cock jolting painfully. Will was naked and on his knees, face and shoulders pressed into the mattress as he fucked himself with a dildo. Jack let out a growl, shirt dropping from his hands and Will’s frantic motions stilled at the sound, the Submissive rolling over, chest heaving.

“Where the hell did ya get tha’?” He asked, voice strangled.

“B-Barbo–”

Jack was across the room before the name was finished, yanking the ivory toy from Will and tossing it forcefully away, disgusted with the idea that anything of that bastard’s had been inside his Will. Will let out a startled sound, watching the phallus’ flight with wide eyes, but Jack won his attention back easily enough as he ran a nose across a heated neck, inhaling deeply. Fingers curled against his forearm, Will going obediently still beneath him as Jack scented. The heat was truly upon the Submissive now and Jack felt his thinking grow muddled at it, light headed not only at the scent but how quickly he was drawing in breath, and each lungful saw him settling more heavily across the burning body below him.

“Fuck, the smell of you.”

He followed the heady scent down Will’s neck, breathing heavily and long in the dip of his arm pit, before moving to do the same to the other. Will squirmed hedonistically beneath him, seeming enjoying the scenting as much as Jack was enjoying giving it, hands locking tightly in Jack’s hair when the Dominant carefully nosed at his middle, tongue dipping to lap of the dried cum in and around his belly button. It seemed as though an hour had past before Jack let himself go lower, finally content that he'd scented every inch of Will's chest and arms, and hiked both of Will’s legs up over his shoulder as he buried his face in a thick thatch of pubic hair, nuzzling against the skin as he memorized that scent straight from the source.

His tongue darted out, licking at and around a tight ball sack, eagerly lapping at the excessive slick that was _everywhere,_ and Will came suddenly above him, body shaking so hard it was as if he was about to fly apart. Jack stumbled back onto his knees, mind slow and stupid as he tried to remember how to undo his belt – Christ, even how to undo his lacing – and suddenly Will’s fingers were there, doing the act for them. While a Submissive’s heat left them as weak as a kitten and haunted by a deep fever sated only by mating, they still remained in control of the faculties during the extent of it. But a Dominant…a heat called a Dominant’s rut, which pulled his primal instincts to the forefront, leaving him with only the most basics of desires; to protect, to kill, to _breed._ Like this, Jack was barely more than a wild animal.

There was an odd balance to it. While Will had little to no physical strength like this, Jack was nothing but intuitive, instinctive fury, willing to cut down anyone or anything that dared to entered their space. And while Jack so mad with lust he couldn't even remember how to get his trousers off, Will was there to untie his laces.

Will let out a relieved sound as he pulled the belt off, deft fingers untying the knot and the Submissive had barely managed to free Jack's cock from his small clothes before the Dominant was on him, yanking his legs out in a wide 'Y' and sliding to the hilt in one frantic push.

After that, most of everything was a blur. Will clung to him, punched out shouts and whines leaving him as Jack hips thrust into him hard enough that the Submissive had to press a hand against the headboard to keep himself from slamming against it. At some point Jack was vaguely aware that he’d broken something on the side table (a lantern, maybe?), but nothing really registered outside of Will’s scent, Will’s broken cries, and Will’s wet, sloppy cunt gripping him so tightly as Jack did his very best to split the Submissive in two with his cock.

In the beginning his mate did his very best to try and meet his thrusts, hips rocking back greedily to chase after his retreating cock, but Jack’s heat-drunken mind (already aggravated by Barbossa's scent that still hung hevily in the cabin) had taken it as sign that the Submissive was trying to escape and had him pinned roughly by the throat and hip, grip hard enough to bruise. Will was wet enough that it had matted Jack's pubic hair into clumps, wet enough that every thrust was met with a dirty, distinctive suction noise, and the feel of the Submissive's slick trickling down around his cock and balls as Jack forced orgasm after orgasm out of his hypersensitive mate was enough to drive the Dominant to very edge of his control.

“Mine.” Jack slurred and Will cried out, hands scrambling for grip as he was abruptly pinned nearly in two. The angle drove Jack’s hips deep enough to feel the end of Will's channel and the firm entrance of his womb, and he thrust harder, hard enough to bruise sensitive insides as he did his very best to grind his cock head against it. “Pretty. _Mine.”_

“Yours,” Will choked out, eyes rolling up, features a mix between pleasured pain, “oh God, yours. Do it – just do it, Jack, please –”

His words broke off into a shriek, fingers sinking nail deep into Jack’s back at the Dominant abruptly tied them. Jack was too on edge for the fight with Barbossa to last too long; especially the other Dominant's scent still present, and he was filled with the need to mark his mate, to prove that WIll belonged to him and only him. Beneath him, Will went utterly still even as an orgasm painted his stomach white, and for a long moment not even breath made his chest rise, pretty features stunned.

The fog in Jack mind slowly began to clear, the knotting allowing for a lull in the mating madness and he released Will’s throat, a thumb running over the abused flesh in apology. “Ded –” The Dominant stopped, shaking his head at the mangled word before he tried again, “did I hurt ya?”

Will shivered, head shaking no before reaching for him much like a child would and Jack obeyed immediately, both groaning as he tugged Will into his lap, the move shifting the tie. His Submissive was limp against him, head lulling against Jack’s shoulder and arms tucked in the space between their chests. Jack made a displeased sound, still trembling hands reaching up to gently probe around the cut, but Will whined, turning his head away until it was hidden against Jack's shoulder. "Leave it."

“For now.” Jack allowed, nose wrinkling at the odd mix of their mating scent and Hector Barbossa. But there was nothing that could be done about that now - for either the cut or the scent - at least not while they were still tied together. The best he could do was reach out and open the windows next to his bed, humming an apology as Will griped at how the motions shifted them. He'd like to do more, but Jack knew as soon as the knot went down, so would his ability to think. He’d just have to hope that after a few more knottings they would have settled enough for him to be able to leave the bed and retrieve the small medical kit he kept in his cabin. It was only on the other side of the small room, but in the middle of a heat the space between the cabinet it rested in and the bed could have been an ocean. Jack rubbed at his mate’s tense back, resting his cheek against a crown of dirty and tangled hair. “Ya alright with this? You didn’t want ta mate, not so soon I mean.”

Will stiffened in his arms, head rolling back until he was facing him, and Jack was surprised to find a fond smile and a gentle light in the Submissive’s eyes. “Jack, you crossed an ocean with the British navy to rescue me from a rogue. I think that counts enough as a Trial for anyone.”

A Trial was the last step of a courtship, taking place just before a couple agreed to spend a heat together. While they were usually tests arranged by a Submissive's parents to ensure that the Dominant in question would be strong enough to protect their mate, the world they lived in was often violent enough to provide natural Trials just by its nature. Jack gave his mate a sharp grin. “I did, didn’t I?”

“How on earth did you even manage that? You’re a _pirate.”_ Will said with a scoff, hands wrapping around Jack’s waist. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well,” Jack mused, drawling out the word. “It seems ya’ve got yourself one hell of a stalwart friend.”

“James.” Will’s entire expression soften and Jack fought against an irrational swell of jealousy at the sight of it. He pressed down in a demanding kiss, plundering the younger Roux’s mouth as if he could sweep the syllables right off of Will's tongue. His mate pulled away a moment later, face amused. “You’re terrible Jack, getting jealous over a friend. A _Human_ friend.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jack grumbled. Will was his, mated and knotted, and with any luck before this heat was over he’d see his Submissive cubed. A Human couldn’t even begin to compete with that. “It’s just the…bonding haze…thing.” Will chuckled but didn't continue his teasing, choosing instead to nuzzle into Jack's shoulder, chest rising deeply as he inhaled his new Dominant's scent. Jack felt his heart swell with affection, his own arms tightening around the slender frame. He'd thought he'd lost this and the idea of made him curl tightly around his mate, resting his lips over a steady pulse. "...I was worried." 

Will turned in his grip, pressing a kiss to the bottom of his chin. "I'm so thankful you came for me."

"Did ya really believe I wouldn't?"

"I'd hoped..." His Submissive said softly, "but Jack - goodness, I didn't even know if you were still alive. I'd thought Barbossa's men had killed you that day, or at best you were locked up in jail."

"You're mine, Will." Jack said sharply, a hand rising up to cup Will's cheek as he stared intently down into his eyes, then again, softer; "you're mine. You and any cubs you give me. There is no where in this world ya could go that I wouldn't follow you. Even if ya wanted to, luv. "

Will's lips parted, as if in surprise, before he closed the small space between them in another one of those gentle kiss - the type that Jack knew he'd be spending the rest of his life chasing - before pulling away, hiding his face in the crook of Jack's neck. They sat in quite contentment for a long moment. Then, quietly, "Jack?"

"Hm?"

"...who's manning the helm?"

"Ah, that. Don'tcha worry yer pretty head about tha', I've had to sail skeleton crew a few times before," not quite with this few of number, but Will didn't need to know that, "the Pearl's rigged ta stay on course. I'll need ta go up and check the course heading-" the arms around him were suddenly crushingly tight, "- in a few hours, luv." He gasped out, hands scrambling to ease Will's grip. "I'm not goin' anywhere just yet."

The Submissive was watching him suspiciously, but after a few moments went lax against Jack's side once more. "Where are we going?"

“Tortuga, first. Then on ta my island if ya like.” Will’s face took on a particular expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” the Submissive assured him and then he was clenching tightly around his knot in a way that made Jack curse and swear, hips kicking up at the unexpectedness of it.

“Fucking minx,” Jack growled out, spilling Will down onto his back as another spend was wrenched from him by those pulling, sucking muscles, and smothered the laughing Submissive’s lips with his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! Well, and then epilogue (I upped the chapter count by one.) Hope you guys liked it, the sudden appearance of a sword was my nod to that movie's incredible Hollywood logic, where so many things happen that really, really shouldn't have been able to, lol. More about how Roux heats work will be in other stories. It hard to get into the pseudo-science of it here. The terms haven't even been discovered for me to use it as introspection on how things work without sound utterly OC. However, ivory dildos are timeline complacent. ;)


	6. Epilogue: A Growing Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are we going to visit them again?” Bill asked, childish chatter almost too quick to be proper words, “can Papa come this time?”  
> “No,” Will said as he flipped the dough, “we can’t go visiting until after the baby’s born, remember? And Papa can’t go into the Commonwealth, you know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after some debate I chose not to include the chapter I had planned. I didn't like it very much. Short, but sweet. My happy ending for my boys.
> 
> Un-betaed.

**1760 AD – The Sparrows’ Isle, West Caribbean**

Will hummed quietly under his breath as kneaded, flour up his forearms as he carefully worked the dough, attention split between the baking (Bulla cake’s weren’t particularly difficult, but Will had never been a natural baker) and the slow, unsure voice that echoed throughout the kitchen, carefully sounding out and shaping each word of Elizabeth’s letter.

“ – we’re both quite…quite… _excited_ for our first child. Both James – that’s Uncle James, isn’t it, Daddy?”

“Yes, love.” Will answered, smiling at the gleeful tone in his eldest boy’s voice.

The little Dominant was also named William (called Bill to keep the confusion down) in part after his grandfather who, to Will’s surprise, had been apparently a very close friend not only of Jack but the entire Sparrow family, and because it had tickled Jack something terrible to be able to say he had a “the Third” in the family. The cub was a rather good blending of both of his parents, though he admittedly looked mostly like Jack, with Jack's eyes and lips, cheekbones and jaw. And he undeniably had his had his sire's coloring; thick, dark hair that could break brushes and mostly did whatever it wanted, and a natural dusky tan. This was undoubtedly the way it was with Roux; Dominants often looked like close mirrors of their sires while Submissives taking after their carriers, but Will could see himself in the little cub, and it pleased him more than anything before ever had.

“Are we going to visit them again?” Bill asked, childish banter almost too quick to be proper words, “I like going on the boats. Auntie Elizabeth always gives me really good candy and Uncle James' hair is always so silly. Can Papa come this time?”

“No,” Will said as he flipped the dough, “we can’t go visiting until after the baby’s born, remember? And Papa can’t go into the Commonwealth, you know that.”

“Do you gotta have ‘nother baby, Daddy?” Bill asked, legs kicking violently away from the stool he was perched atop. He glanced over, face wrinkled with distaste, at where Will’s (current) youngest, Samuel, was busy trying to eat his feet from where he rested in his Moses’ basket. “We already have a baby.”

“I’m afraid it’s already too late for that, my darling.” Will said, amused. "No going back now."

He was almost a full six months, at the very tail end of his pregnancy. What the women of the village said was true (and didn’t they find him quite odd, so interested in women’s health and reproduction, only to disappear for a handful of months and return with another child from “some whore or another” that Jack had brought back for him to raise and wasn’t he such a _decent man_ to raise his irresponsible cousin’s children?), each pregnancy was easier than the last. This third one had hardly been any trouble at all.

Though it had been a bit of a surprise.

Will was quite content after Samuel; with his birth, Will found that he had both a Dominant and a Submissive cub, one of each as the saying went. Will hadn’t even realized that he’d been in heat, so mild and muted was it, and it had presented simply as a higher than normal amount of arousal - but nothing like what he'd experienced in his heats. It was most likely because he was still nursing; nursing seemed to be a natural birth control, staving off his heats until Will's hormones returned to normal. But his blood had been irregular, thinner than normal following a birth, and Will supposed it wasn’t utterly unheard of to get pregnant so soon. At least he hoped so, it wasn't like he'd had many other Submissives he could ask.

Neither he nor Jack had thought the heavy day of mating that had been inspired by the strange heat as anything more than just heightened randiness, a mutual need to get as much contact as possible with each other before Jack had to leave again. The plantations took a lot of money to keep up and running, and Jack often had to leave to pillage and plunder. He would have left regardless, Will knew. The sea was in Jack's blood and as much as he loved his family, he loved his mistress just as much. The Dominant had left the following day, never knowing that they’d conceived another child. His mate wasn’t due back for another month, which meant that he would miss the birth, but Will tried not to focus on that soul-crushingly sad fact. Not when it couldn’t be helped.

“Can’t I go out an’ play?”

“No, you may not. Finish Aunt Elizabeth’s letter then you can go.” Bill took after his father in the sense that he had been a willful, wildly independent child from birth, with a fierce hatred for rules of any kind, and schooling him was proving a trial of patience and love for both of them. But still, he needed to work on his reading. Five may be a bit young for Human children to be able to read well, but among Roux milestones Bill was actually slightly behind.

There was a dramatic sigh, but Bill seemed to know better than to push his carrier on this (thank god, Will's patience was thin so late into carrying) then the hesitant voice started again. “Both James and I were a..a…aggr…”

“Aggrieved.”

“Ah – ggri _eved_. To hear of your wife’s t-troubles carrying this term.”

Will didn’t like lying to Elizabeth about his children’s conceptions and birth, just as he did not enjoy not being able to call his mate ‘husband’ or snuggle into his Dominant’s broad side when they walked the village, but it was a necessity that he had always known would exist in his life. As far as Elizabeth and James knew, Will had gone off to indulge in some piracy, got his life back together shortly after a few raids in which he was turned off by the violence of the trade, and retired to Sparrow’s Isle. He'd opened a smithy (he did have one here on the plantation, though he mainly made and maintained their tools then made any real weapons anymore), married the first round-cheeked, kind woman he met, and began to rapidly pop out children.

“ – wait with – with – great _excitement_ for your next letter. All our love, Auntie Elizabeth and Uncle James.” The letter was thrown onto the table with gusto. “Can I go play now, Daddy?”

“First I want you to go see if Mr. Ambrose needs any help with the chickens, then you may play.”

“But _Daddy_ –”

“Don’t talk back, Billy. It’s rude.” Will said sternly, bopping the cub on the head with his rag. “It’s the only chore you have today, and then you can spend the rest of the afternoon playing if you like.”

He chuckled at his willful son, shaking his head as Bill all but stomped outside, face as thunderous as a storm cloud. All of the workers on Jack’s plantation – house and field – were freed slaves. Most of them had been there for generations, their grandfathers saved from slaver’s boats by Jack’s father Edward Teague. They were the only inhabitants on the Isle that knew what they were – well, perhaps they didn’t have a name for it, but they knew that none of the Teagues or Sparrows that had resided there were Human – and as long as none of their own ended up on a Roux’s plate, were fairly content with the partnership.

They were freemen, paid a decent wage, and protected from anyone who may be looking to sell them or their children back into slavery as long as they remained on one of the four plantations owned by Jack, his father, or his cousins. It also helped, Will supposed, that they’d never been converted to Christianity. It seemed as if the pagan religions of Africa accepted Roux existences quite easily. It all bred a loyalty that was surprisingly dependable, and while at first Will had been uncomfortable with so many knowing what he was, he was surprised to find it also gave him a degree of freedom he’d never felt before.

He’d only just put the cakes in the oven when Samuel burst into frantic tears and the Submissive swung around, eyes wide, only to deflate with a relieved sigh. He shook his head at the sight of an angry orange tabby streaking from the room, fur puffed up. Ms. Cat (as Bill had creatively named her) was one of the several ratters who lived on the plantation, and had won her place in the main house through hard won battle with the large pack of dogs that lived in and around the house. She was old, her belly swinging low with kittens more often than not, and had very little tolerance for nonsense.

It took some effort, but the robustly pregnant Roux managed to reach down and pluck up his sobbing son. He shushed him, pressing a kiss to the small scratch on the baby’s palm as he bounced and rocked. “Well, darling, that’s what you get. Not even Brutus dares to grab Ms. Cat’s tail, and he’s a much larger dog then you.” Will teased, wiping at his son’s snotty face with his sleeve. Samuel hiccuped, before resting his head heavily against Will’s shoulder. “There, there, that’s my brave lad.”

“We could always jus’ kill tha’ cat.”

Will spun around, heart beating just as strongly as it had the first time he’d seen Jack all those years ago, and felt his face break into a wide smile at the sight of his mate. Immediately Samuel stopped crying, hands reaching out for his sire, letting out an excited ramble of _“papapapapapapapa!”_

“Don’t you dare,” Will said, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, “Billy loves that cat.”

Jack said nothing in response, expression slack with disbelief, eyes locked on the Submissive’s swollen stomach. Will gave him a weak smile, resting a hand over the swell. “Um, surprise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this installment of the Roux series, I had so much fun writing it. I needed something simple and fluffy, which this fic definitely was. Just so you know, in my mind, Will Graham is related to one of Jack and Will's cubs through his paternal line. Because, I can, lol.


End file.
